


The Odds

by CameronJade



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 61,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameronJade/pseuds/CameronJade
Summary: Welcome to the Fourty-Second Annual Hunger Games!
Kudos: 2





	1. The Reaping

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : I swear to god, I'm not Suzanne Collins. I don't own her story, nor the concept of BRs. That said, I did try and create as many original characters as I possibly could, and I would very much like them to remain... untouched.
> 
>  **Warnings** : Some story adaptation and similarities, murder, strong language, excessive gore, torture, smoking, explicit sex, rape, voyeriam, underage sex, just a whole bunch of mature triggering things. I didn't shy away from... well, nearly anything. I wanted this to be graphic and terrible. Sorry.
> 
>  **Notes** : This came to me after a particularly bad break up years ago. I sat down and just... started writing, like I do. Based characters off of my friends, my ex, me, added in some dark humor, violence, a shit ton of references and cultural shit. This is the single piece of writing I am the most proud of in my entire life. It's not quite finished yet, but I have gotten enough that I think people will enjoy it. Some of it might fly over your head, but they're so insignificant to you and meaningful to me that I couldn't be without these details. 
> 
> My ex, the one that inspired this story, and the creation of Jet, told me that I could make this a real book, should I change a few things. When I threw 50 Shades of Grey into his face and told him I wouldn't be a crazy quack fan fiction writer, he pointed out "if that idiot can write a bestseller fan fiction off a crack story like Twilight that came to that woman in a dream, why [couldn't I] turn this into something amazing?" That question haunts me to this day.
> 
> So, I hope you enjoy this, while it is just a fan fiction, and maybe time will tell. Also, please enjoy the references I've overtly hidden and blatantly splashed throughout this story. They're probably the only reason I continued wroting this, and I very much enjoy them.

I jerk from my sleep, sitting up in bed, as I generally do. It isn't uncommon for me to wake like this. I never seem to have a reason, excep-

**_BEEP BEEP BEEP_ **

Right... That's why I wake like that. I sigh and hit the STOP button on the tiny, albeit loud, alarm before falling back onto my pillow. After a moment, but before I fall back into my slumbering solitude, I throw back the light blanket I sleep with. Although it's too hot to sleep under a sheet, I can't help but sleep with something covering me, and the blanket is all I have. Slowly, I stretch my body without sitting up, a simple pleasure I allow myself every morning before my mind registers what I am about to do.

"Get up," I finally command myself aloud after a few minutes of motionlessness, my voice slicing through the deafening silence like a knife. I have three hours before I have to leave, and in that time I have many things to do. Lifting up my bed, I carefully open the trapdoor beneath it and slip into the gaping hole, letting the door, and my bed, fall back into place over my head. Tying my long hair into a sloppy ponytail, I begin my morning exercises. Having already stretched, I fluidly flow into my first kata and do not stop, simply remembering the moves from years and years of study and practice. Aikido, Judo, Jujitsu, Karate, T'ai Chi Ch'uan and, for extra measure, a little bit of Taekwondo.

If the Peacekeepers knew what I did in my hidden room, I might be killed or possibly tortured, but no one even knew this place existed, not even the owners. It was probably the safest place in Panem, if there was one; and just under my floorboards. Even if it was found, there was nothing but earth in it. Just a regular cellar. Even though those in our District generally look the other way when what poorer districts call "career tributes" train in their Academy; in my case the things I practiced unsupervised could be considered "dangerous to society". Considering my heritage, I wouldn't get the same treatment as the rest. Our race had always been treated with distrust, even before the founding of Panem.

I had been watched from a very young age by the older members of the District, but when I was old enough to be entered in the Games... well, I became less of an interest to them. I hadn't rejoined the other kids who started practicing early, I hadn't talked about entering the Hunger Games yet, and my parents had died... I fended well for myself, started working in a jewelry shop learning how to make pieces of art with metals and gems, and when I still wasn't making enough to live comfortably, I took out tesserae.

After an hour of constant motion, my joints and muscles ache, and I let them relax as I shower the sweaty grime from my body. It wasn't just my martial arts practice that would get me in trouble; if anyone knew about my late night Kenjutsu training, where I perfected both Iaido and Kendo, I would be publicly executed for sure. It sounds contradictory, given the circumstances they put us children through for years, and given my District... However, sword practices had been outlawed a few years before the Districts were separated, the rebellion, and The Hunger Games began. They were too dangerous for civilians to use. Being a civilian with the knowledge I had, I knew what could happen to those who didn't do as the government commanded. If found out, in the offhand chance I may be able to keep my miserable life, I would be controlled and ordered by the government to become a soldier. That wasn't the life I wanted. No, better to train in secret, pretend to be helpless, and carry out my plan.

I turn off the water, climb out the narrow shower and slip into a thick robe, wrapping my hair up in a towel. I carefully pick out an outfit to wear to the Reaping and toss it onto my bed. A plain emerald colored dress that fell to my knees to match my eyes, which are a shade darker, the color of the glass bottles we drink our water from. Feeling a little edgy, I choose my heeled boots that zip halfway up my calf and add a blue sash to wear about my waist for visual effect, as well as the comfort the tightness would offer.

I towel dry my hair as quickly as I can manage, run my brush through it, then towel it again to soak up the access water. The last touch is a silver wire headband that used to be my mother's. I trace one of the sapphire dragonflies with my finger before slipping it into my hair. I'd keep it as a token from my District. It's the only thing I had of any value, having sold everything to support myself after I was orphaned. Normally I would braid my hair into a single plait or up in a ponytail, however I knew today my hair would look best cascading down my back with a jewel of the family holding it in place.

After the money ran out, I applied for the tesserae option, which, luckily for me, wasn't denied. So I put my name in extra, what did it matter? With how many volunteers there usually are, and the number of other girls... For a while I felt safe, protected almost. Year after year after year I stood, fearing no one would volunteer, that my name would be called before I was ready, and no one would step up for me. Yet, here I was, my last year to attend the Reaping and I'm still here. Despite that fact, despite all my fears, I plan on volunteering this year.

Not that it mattered for very much longer, or so I told myself as I cooked from the last bit of food I have left. I like the first meal of the day to be a light one; despite the hunger pangs, my stomach can't handle a lot of food before noon. Besides, it's not like I had to go to work today, or that my job was difficult. I live in District 1, so my life is relatively easy compared to the other Districts, or so I hear. Nevertheless, to say my life was easy is comparable to shoving a stick into your throat and twisting.

The lump in my stomach refuses to be easily swayed by the sweet rice, and the pickled plums are no better. Having enough to eat, and no time to spare, I carelessly toss my dishes into the sink. I refuse to wash them; I don't plan on seeing them or my shack again, unless I was lucky... Well, then I'd get a new house! Which would be nice. To return to the Victor's Village after being cast out into this... hovel. The death of my parents cost me more than the loss of my home though, and I considered myself lucky.

I wasn't doing this for my District. Not for future glory. I was doing it for my parents. To follow in their footsteps, to The Hunger Games. Maybe I would die... but most likely, like them, I'd win. Win or lose, I'll end up dead. It wasn't a question of how; it was a question of how long.

I look around my home once more before heading out, shutting the door softly behind me. I try not to think of the shack that would sit empty as I walk down the street; nor the lack of parents that wouldn't miss me. I count myself lucky in that regard, having no one at home to worry for my safety. That doesn't mean I don't have friends, I do. Just not like everyone else.

Sensing something off, I turn my head and narrowly avoid being caught in the face by a slender fist. Catching the owner's wrist, I easily use the momentum to throw the shorter figure's body to the ground. Laughing at the spectacle of the girl in the dirt, I offer her my hand to help her up. "You're getting better, Chiara dear," I compliment, shaking my head at her ridiculous choice in color.

"You've ruined my dress!" the salmon-haired girl cried, trying to brush the dirt from the fancy white skirt, but to no avail. "Chise! Did you really have to throw me like that?!"

"I don't know Chiara... you em>did attack me. On Reaping Day, no less!" I chide, poking her forehead with a smile.

She scowls, rubbing at a small scrape on her cheek. "You always seem to know when I'm there!" she mock wails. "I was extra quiet! There's no way you heard me!"

I sigh and shake my head. "I didn't hear you," I tell her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. "I just felt you there."

Chiara shakes her head, but holds me about the waist in a similar fashion. "Eyes in the back of your head, Chise. I swear it. Like an owl! At least if you get picked for The Games, at least you'll be safe."

Maybe, maybe not. Regardless, it was good to smile. Chiara had that effect on people. She put them at ease, made them smile and laugh. It is easy to forget the darkness ahead with her at my side.

We arrive at the public plaza and linger together for a moment longer until I pull away. "Well..." I said, wanting to tell her my plan, but knowing I never can. I don't want to hurt her, even though I knew I will. I also don't want her to cause a scene. If she knew what I was planning to do, she would try and stop me.

"Well," she echoes, sounding more resolute than I.

I brush back her pink hair and bend down to kiss the top of her head. "Don't be so worried, Chiara. You're only fourteen, and people volunteer every year! Trust me." The promise rang differently in my ears, but it was confident and reassuring.

She grins up at me and nods, not suspicious or worried in the least. After all, this _is_ District One. "I know. I'll see you after the Reaping, okay? I have a present for you! Don't let me forget!"

"I won't," I promise, smiling sadly. I can't do it. I can't tell her. Then my moment is gone as we get into line. We are pulled in different directions, processed, bled, and spilled into the square with the hundreds of other children. I find a spot to stand with those of the same age, and I wait.

It isn't long before the screen behind the figure walking across the podium lit up, giving us a better view of our Mayor, a plump, short woman. I know her well, and was even lucky enough to be living in her "guest house". She had been kind to me since my parents were found dead in our house on my twelfth birthday.

I giggle to myself as I watch her wobble toward the mic, trying to think what she reminds me of. Before I can put my finger on it, she taps the microphone and then speaks the words I'd been waiting to hear.

"Welcome to the Forty-Second Annual Hunger Games Reaping!"

I, along with many others, let out a loud cheer and throw a fist up into the air. I'm not afraid this year! I feel joy, excitement, and the anticipation is wearing at me, like it had since I made up my mind to volunteer. The woman launches into the story of the past, the reason we have the Hunger Games, a speech most of us know by heart. In fact, I even start to mouth the words along with her, all the while mocking her, and the story, in my head.

Then comes my favorite part, the reading of the victors from our District. When my parents' names are read off, I stand a little taller, a smile on my face. The list is short, but it has the two most important names in the world on it; and soon, mine would join them. After the pleasantries are complete, the Mayor introduces the Capitol escort for our District, Ollie Kingfevin. Sauntering across the stage, he stands before the microphone, leveling his amazing silver eyes that matched his hair on all of us gathered. He smiles brilliantly and raises his arms.

"Let us begin!"

As the bowls are brought out with our names in it, I have a sudden lapse of dread. It is so great that I have to wrap my arms around my stomach to keep from vomiting. My fists squeeze so tight my nails dug into my palms, causing me enough pain that I gasp a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Looking to my hands, I could see the half-moon holes that started oozing blood. It was then I realize I had missed the call for volunteers, had it come at all?, and when I come to my senses, Kingfevin had drawn the first name. When the silence fell over the crowd, I realize that no one had stepped up. No one wanted to volunteer this year. No one was...

"Our girl tribute this year is Chiara Plum-Kyte!"

My mind went blank and I heard the small cry of my best friend. I turn, as if in a dream, and see her being pulled from the crowd and dragged towards the stage. The dirt on her dress stands out stark against the fabric. I see the red of the scrape on her cheek, which I had put there. Her pink hair fluttering as she tries to escape them. Fighting to get away...

"I Volunteer!" my dry mouth calls out, but it's too quiet. They're ignoring me. So I decide to give them something they _can't_ ignore. "I VOLUNTEER!" I shove the girl next to me out of the way and march confidently out of the crowd. I'm quickly joined by the two Peacekeepers on either side of me, bringing me to the stairs up to the stage.

I bounce up them happily, forcing myself to grin like an idiot. I ignore the plump woman who was between horror and shock at the sound of her daughter's name, staring at me in disbelief. Walrus. It was a walrus I had been thinking of, but in the light of things, the joke just seems distasteful now.

"A volunteer! An eager one too!" Kingfevin says, reaching for my hand. He is acting as if this wasn't out of the ordinary. "The first of many I'm sure! Anyone else wish to volunteer for this fine girl! Come on up, sweetness!"

I give it and blush for the cameras, trying to hide my puzzlement as we stare out into the crowd. People are cheering, laughing, waving... but no one else was volunteering. I feel ill and jerk away from Kingfevin to step away. "I'm sorry!" I exclaim, quickly pulling my hand away just before he touches me. "I don't want to bleed on you!"

Kingfevin looks perplexed and dismayed, but he hands me his handkerchief elegantly, and just as smoothly picks up where he left off. "You're bleeding? A little too excited?"

I nod enthusiastically. "I meant to volunteer sooner! I was distracted by your shiny hair! It's so beautiful!" Yes... _that_ was it. Whatever. Anything to keep from looking at the slip of paper in his hand.

Kingfevin laughs and flicks side to side his hair for the crowd. As expected, the crowd goes wild. "What is your name?" he asks, when the crowd dies down again.

"Nara. Nara Chise," I answer, looking to the only person who mattered. A small girl who had been left where she'd been when the Peacekeepers had taken me instead, collapsed on the ground and looking at me in horror. Never could she have imagined the girl who wanted her position would be me.

"Nara? Not the 19th Hunger Games Nara?!" Kingfevin declares, incredulous. There's a murmur from the crowd.

"My father," I say, with a short nod, my eyes flicking back to him. "Daughter of his wife, the 23rd winner, Hanako."

"Well well, you _are_ full of surprises! You volunteered so quickly! Was it when you saw that poor girl crying? Is she precious to you?" Kingfevin asks, a smirk on his face.

I give her a quick look, hoping she would understand. "No. She works with me, that's all. I happen to know her. I was going to volunteer anyway... I just-" I make the blood rush to my face, a talent I picked up as a child, and look down at my feet, mumbling.

"What's that, sweets? You have to speak up. Panem can't hear you!"

I chuckle in my head, but I speak louder. "I have stage fright," I admit, holding up my hands.

Kingfevin laughs and the rest of the crowd joined him.

I suppress my anger, and blurt out, as if I'm frantic. "When no one volunteered, I lost my nerve. So I just waited for someone's name to be read. I thought for _sure_ someone would volunteer! They always do..."

Kingfevin waves his free hand, shushing me, giving me a quizzical look. "Is there anything you'd like to say to the girl you saved?" he asks, being uncharacteristically kind.

I nod. "You better come and thank me, for saving your miserable life!" I exclaim, pointing at her.

The crowd laughs gaily once more, then I was waved on.

I fall back obediently; glad to see a kind girl helping Chiara to her feet. I wanted to be the one to comfort her, but I took her place on the stage instead. That would have to do.

I watch as Kingfevin reaches in and drew out a name for the male tribute. My heart leapt and jerked in my chest. Chiara's name had been drawn, seemingly an admonishment for my failure to speak sooner. I felt apprehension as the slip was opened.

It was then I realize no volunteers for the boys had been called. They usually have volunteers sorted out before the tribute is picked due to the sheer numbers that there usually were. I heard it used to take weeks before the Reaping and people used to sign up and petition... but lately some districts have been choosing different methods of picking volunteers. Less... _messy_ methods.

"Emery Crowley!"

I bowed my head, knowing what was coming next. Kingfevin surprises me by asking if there were any volunteers for the boy as he walks towards the stage.

"I VOLUNTEER!" a deep voice calls out first, then a second voice echoes, but only noise. A tall, dark figure is already pushing and shoving people out of his way as he moves forward to the stage. He catches the small boy who is passing with the Peacekeepers and put a hand on his shoulder, saying something.

I see a boy in the aisle, fuming, his face as red as his hair, shouting something in the back. A small boy tugs on his hand and tells him something which earns the poor thing a smack to the face.

I can see Jet's mouth moving, but he's too far away to hear what he was saying. I had caught 'I'll go,' but the rest is lost in the small scuffle that breaks out between them. It is quickly stopped by the Peacekeepers, one who drags Emery away screaming and making rude gestures with his hands, and the second who pushes Jet up the stairs.

"Looks like we have a _pair_ of volunteers!" Kingfevin announces. "Very good! District One follows tradition and sends two eager volunteers to the Capitol!"

I know them both, not personally, but we've had a few run-ins. I know Emery better, and from what it seemed, no one really knew Jet, not even Emery. What I did know was Jet was very protective of his little brother.

The names drawn today had to be a sign. It couldn't have been rigged, there was no way. This year's Hunger Games would be one to watch. That much was certain.

"And who do we have here?" Kingfevin asks, his hand on the dark-haired man's shoulder.

"Jet Crowley," the boy answers.

"And that was your brother?"

Jet nods, looking sternly at the second volunteer who stood in the middle of the empty aisle staring him down. Despite his right to volunteer as well, he didn't seem too eager to challenge Jet for the position. It surprises no one when he melts back into the crowd, me least of all. I wouldn't want to fight Jet if I were him either… And I will have to.

"Well, that's touching! Not many brothers would step up to take the place of their sibling! Especially one who seemed so eager to go!"

Jet shrugs and without being dismissed, turns to join me as the anthem starts playing. He doesn't look at me; he has no reason to.

My thoughts are with Chiara. Today, she lost two people who were precious to her, and only one could come back. I had known of her fondness for the boy for a long time, after she had told me in hushed tones as we worked. She didn't care about the age difference she told me, she was drawn to his silence. I wonder for a moment, which of us she wants to come back. Then Kingfevin broke through my thoughts.

"District One! I present your tributes! Why don't you two shake hands? It _is_ customary!"

I turn to the boy and stick out my hand, smirking for the cameras. He shakes it impassively, his eyes a dark depth of apathy and impatience. Then I am ushered into the building, down the hall, and into a small room. I sit in the chair for wait for my only visitor.

The minutes tick by and just when I think Chiara would never come, the door opened. I stand as she walks in and closes the door. She is motionless for what seemed like forever, and then in a flurry of movement, she is in my arms, holding me tight enough to stop my breath. Her tears soak into my dress, her salmon-colored hair hiding her face.

"Now now," I chide, pulling her away from me. "It's okay."

She shakes her head, her hair flailing wildly. "It's **_NOT_** okay!" she shouts. "You have to promise me you'll come back!"

Her request surprises me, and tears spring to my eyes. I wipe them away before they can fall and I take the headband from my hair to run my fingers through it, a nervous habit of mine. "I thought you'd ask me to spare Jet!" I say.

"I don't care about _him_!" she wails. "I never cared about him!"

This shocks me. "Chi?"

She smiles, despite her tears and reaches up to touch my face. "It was always you, Chise! Ever since we met! Why else would you think I mimic you? I loved how our names were so similar, and how you always called me Chi when you were happy. I loved how you smiled around me! I loved you... I **_STILL_** love you, Chise. I will _always_ love you."

"But... you said-" I try to say, confused by her outburst. "Jet..."

"I was trying to make you _jealous_!" she cries, wringing her hands. She pulls a small ring from her thumb and takes my hand, slipping it onto the left hand ring finger. "This will keep you safe. I meant to give it to you later... to tell you how I felt!"

I look at the small blue rose on the black band, then to the eyes that matched its hue. "Chiara..."

"Come back to me," she insists, taking my hands in hers. "Swear me a vow!"

I hesitate. Never had I seen her so desperate. Never had I seen her in pain such as this.

"Do it!" she demands. "Tell me you'll kill everyone in my place, _everyone_ , and come back!"

I nod. "I will," I say, running my thumb over one of the dragonflies on my mother's headband. Without a second thought, I slip it onto her, and admire the color contrast between the gems and her silken hair. "Keep this as proof of my promise. It was my mother's given to her by my father before she went to the Hunger Games."

"I didn't know," she said softly, reaching up to touch it, as if to reassure herself it was real. "Until you said so earlier, I swear, I didn't know you were the daughter of two victors. I knew your Father…"

I smile softly, remembering my reaction when they told me why we lived where we had. "You're going to learn a lot of things during the interviews. You're going to see me do a lot of horrible things, and say things that aren't true. I will do what I have to. It'd be best if you don't let on that you care for me other than a friend. And above all else... don't believe anything I say. I will make it seem like you're unimportant. Like everyone is unimportant. Even myself." Her eyes were watering again, and it broke my heart. Sighing, I bend to plant a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Chi," I say softly into her ear before I straighten.

She smiles and gives me one last hug before the door opens and she jumps back. Looking awkward, she does the unthinkable and bows to me. "Thank you for saving my life."

"Don't think you're safe from another Reaping," I say tersely, glaring at her. "I won't be there to save you next time."

The blood drains from her face, as if she believes me, but she nods and leaves at the Peacekeeper's urging. The door closes behind them, and I'm alone.


	2. Unexpected Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna apologize for taking so long to update this. Last time I tried to update it, my phone kept deleting text while I switched back and forth to figure out where my italics went. So, I fixed that problem.
> 
> This chapter was much longer, but I also decided to change that because it did seem to take away from the first half.

I was taken aback when a few moments later I was told I had one more visitor. It seemed like my time should be up, but I waited patiently as a stylish young teen sashayed into the room. I didn’t recognize her, but that wasn’t surprising. I knew very few people. I wondered why she had wanted to see me. I refused to speak, just looking over her golden ringlet curls, her sharp sapphire blue eyes, her stunning orange and black dress that fell way past her feet.

The girl gathered the skirts and strode forward, slowly circling me. “So you did volunteer, Nara... You caused quite a stir with the recruits, you know. I rushed over as soon as I heard.”

I shrugged, my eyes set in a bored stare. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh not true, but everyone is too kind to say. Everyone knows that girl is under your protection. You got lucky that the rules changed this year.”

That interested me, but her at my back made me irritated. I clenched my hands into fists, relishing the pain in my hands. It calmed me and I huffed. “I didn’t know there was a rule change.”

“Well if you expect to survive the games, you better be pretty lucky, because you’re not very bright.”

I wanted to whirl on her, but I didn’t. I checked my animosity and turned slowly to meet her gaze. “What do you want?”

The girl crossed her slender arms, cradling her small breasts, but standing in a confident manner. I could tell at once this girl had been trained with the rest of the recruits. That, and she had rich parents, with an aristocratic air about her that screamed _OBEY ME_! “The rule change this year was that volunteers could only volunteer after the name drawing this year. I suppose they got tired of so many fights between volunteers. We decided to hold a lottery, and whoever’s name came up, they would be allowed to speak first. Your name came up in the vote.”

My eyebrows knit together. Is that why Kingfevin was so confused by my comments? “I don’t understand... I don’t train with your group! I don't even go to that little "school" your kind set up.”

Her eyes were suddenly filled with rage and she stepped towards me. The quickness of her steps made me tense, but I relaxed and easily sidestepped her. She seemed to know I would move in that direction, because she quickly stuck out her elbow and spun on her heel. I caught her, and using the force of her spin, shoved her to the ground. “You’re not allowed to attack a tribute,” I growled, kicking her in the side hard. I heard her grunt and stepped back. “Get up and tell me what you’re here for! Why was my name put in the lottery, and how did I win?”

“It was a _joke_!” the girl spat out venomously, holding herself where I had kicked. “Silver put your name in as a joke. She said she’s seen you almost volunteer several times before, but you always chickened out! It’s not like you have parents, not like us! And you're fooling yourself if you think you have something to prove.”

The girl’s words cut sharper than any knife. “What’s your name?” I ask coldly.

“Diamond,” the girl shot back. “I have three younger siblings and **_both_** parents. Why should any of us volunteer when it was so obviously set up for you this year? Your name came up in the lottery; you had the first option to volunteer. When little Chi’s name came up in the Drawing… it seemed like fate! And then you called out! Oh it was _sooo_ precious!" She grinned at me, her blue eyes shining brightly, but her carefully painted lips opened too widely as she laughed. "Flash had her mind set on taking your place, and she’s quite cross that you did volunteer.”

My jaw clenched as she spoke, but I kept my eyes on the floor. I didn’t like the way she said Chiara’s name, but I refused to say anything about the girl. “It doesn’t matter who was reaped. I was going to volunteer!”

“Sure you were,” the girl said haughtily. “Just like last year, and the year before.”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t ready then. I am now. You’re three years younger than me, aren’t you? You’ll have your chance.”

“Flash won’t,” Diamond pointed out. “She’s eighteen, just like you.”

“What does that matter to me?” I hissed. “If I win, she won’t be able to get even. And if I die… I’m dead. So tell me, why are you here?”

“I’m here to wish you luck. We all hope you come back a victor. If you don’t… well, then there will be no one to protect your little friend, now will there?”

My blood went cold and I resisted the urge to shudder. She had made their point clear. Come back, or Chi was as good as dead. I tossed my hair carelessly. “She’s not my problem anymore,” I replied, leveling my eyes with hers. “However, I do plan on winning. Tell Flash to place her bet on how long I’ll last. If I come home, I'll shame her publicly.”

Diamond let out a high pitched laugh, one that lasted longer than it should, and chilled me. “She isn’t fooling around, Nara! She knows you’re deadly, and she knows better than to underestimate you. However, she doesn’t think you’ll win. She has put her bet on you dying in the finale.” Her smile was twisted, and showed the sick thoughts hidden in her mind.

I wasn’t fooled. I saw her lips twitch in contempt; I saw her brow pull down in anger. She had bet I’d die sooner. “I don’t know how you know what my worth is. Even I do not. I will, however, come back; dead or alive. Your message is received. You may leave.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but she flounced off.

Alone with my thoughts, at least for the moment, I gathered my strength. I wanted to scream, to cry, to race out of here… I wanted to protect Chiara. The only thing that stilled me was knowing I could never do that. No matter how I felt, I had to hide it. Forget about it.

I grasped at my sanity like a drowning man clutched at a lifeline, but I could feel the tug gradually. When the door opened, I was startled, but I looked up from where I had collapsed to my knees. I couldn’t feel my face, but I knew it was relaxed, which means I was expressionless. That was good. Numbly, I slowly stood and walked forward, as if in a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost made a list of references, but I didn't want to distract from the plot, and I figured it would probably be more amazing if the reader discovered them on their own. I'm one of those people who believes that explaining the joke does make it less funny. So, enjoy those hidden Easter eggs, ya nerds ;)


	3. Hateful Analysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fully approve of my decision to split this chapter in two.

The Peacekeepers took me to the station. I rode in a car next to Jet, only apologizing for bumping against him when the car jostled us together. It was a hushed apology, nervous, and the instant spoken, regretted. He glared at me, his cold black eyes accused me of more than my tiny transgression. I felt the words slip from my mouth again, without me thinking about it, then I turned my face from him.

As we exited the car, I could feel my face morphing into an emotionless mask. I couldn't let the crowd see my excitement, nor my fear. I was a whirlwind of emotion inside, but I'd save it for the interview, or perhaps the Capitol. There were lots of cameras and people waiting at the station to see us off. I had wanted to stay a blank slate, but when a child rushed forward with a small bouquet of tiny flowers and offered them to me, I couldn't suppress a smile as I took them.

"May the odds be ever in your favor," the boy said shyly before rushing off.

I watched him for a brief second, then looked into the cameras. They wanted to see something memorable, and since no one ever did anything like this in the station, I wanted to be the first. It was then, just past the cameras I see Chiara and her parents. They’re watching me, tears streaming down every one of their faces, both of them with one hand on Chiara’s shoulder. I hadn’t known they had loved me, or even cared. Perhaps, it was gratitude for saving their girl… but in that moment, it was as if they were losing their other daughter.

There was a sad smile on my face as I dipped my nose to sniff the fragrant flowers, and when I took them away I turn back to District One, blow them all a kiss and wave good-bye. "I'll come back!" I cry. "I promise!"

I give them one last bow, my face red as my hair, then turn and walk as quickly as I can from them calling our names. I pass Jet as if he were invisible. It was my promise to Chiara, Flash, and to all of District One. They deserved a true tribute, one that would be more than just a killing brute. I would give them that at whatever cost. I begin to accept the fact that my reputation and secrets were no longer mine, unless I could make the Capitol believe my lies...

I was silently ushered to the room I would be occupying and left by Kingfevin, too stunned for words. Gazing about, I tugged at the sash. With nothing to do until I was summoned, I collapsed on the bed and stared at nothing. I had no concept of time and eventually I must have drifted off. I was woken by a slight sound and movement, and in an instant I was off the bed and crouched into a defensive position.

A blonde girl clothed in red stared at me silently, and I could tell looking into her eyes she was afraid of me. I relaxed and straightened slowly, holding up my hands to show her I wouldn't hurt her. "I was surprised, I'm sorry. You have to understand the stress I'm under..."

The girl nodded, but didn't answer. She had brought a stack of clothes, setting them at the end of the bed, then left without another word.

I was glad for the girl's silence. I wasn't really looking for a new friend, nor anyone to talk to. What would I say? I was going off to potentially die... there was nothing more to discuss. I figured they wanted me to change, but I was quite happy with the clothes I had dressed myself in. When I was summoned for dinner, I was still in my own clothes and the only change I had made is my sash had been tied into my hair like a headband.

Jet was already seated at the table, and glanced up when I entered the room. As I approached the table, he rose from his chair and came round to pull out my seat for me. I was surprised, but I thanked him and smiled for the first time since we left. I could smell the sweet scent of soap on him as he passed me; I turned my head away, trying not to breathe. I waited until he was seated again to pick up the platter of meat in front of me.

"You didn't change," he commented, his growling voice cutting through the awkward silence.

I glanced up, eyeing his black silk shirt that was embroidered with gold thread in no discernible pattern. His sleeves were loose and gathered at the wrist in the prettiest lace cuffs I'd ever seen, and the deep V in the front showing off an awful lot of chest. His chest hadn't been shaved, and was covered in dark curly hair. I opened my mouth to reply when the door behind me opened and I heard a flurry of footsteps. I carefully set down the platter I had taken a strip of steak from and slowly grasped my knife.

"Here they are! And Jade! You're here as well! Very good!"

I craned my head to look over my shoulder. Ollie Kingfevin was approaching with a brilliant smile, his eyes still fixed on a woman I hadn't seen before. She must have been sitting in the car when I entered and I just didn't realize. An older man followed him, just as silent as his partner, his dark features twisted into a sneer as he hung back and watched Kingfevin flit about. I returned my attention to the food in front of me, unconcerned.

"Been watching us, have you?" Jet snarled towards the young woman, frowning.

I assumed he had thought we wouldn't be watched every second. If that were true, he was very mistaken. Yet, I kept my ears open as I scooped mashed-up potatoes onto my plate. 

I heard the woman with the pale-green spiky hair move from her window seat, standing probably. I knew her instantly, though I didn't let on. She was the victor of the first Hunger Games I ever watched, ten years ago. She had killed seven tributes in one night, and when the rest had killed each other off, she trapped the last tribute, dug a deep hole and dropped him in it, burying him alive.

"It was so cute, Ollie. He helped her into her chair like she was a lady..." the woman crooned, her tinkling laughter following just after.

I glanced up at Jet. He was livid, his face red. "I was taught _manners_ ," he snarled. "Just because we're forced to fight to the death doesn't mean we turn into wild animals."

I rolled my eyes. _That's exactly what it means_ , I thought to myself. I tried not to think of how I had apologized to him as I forked roasted carrots onto my plate and began mashing them and mixing them with my potatoes. But I couldn't ignore the tall, dark shadow that fell over me as the male sponsor strode up to the table.

"Whatever your reason, just keep in mind that you _will_ be fighting to the death," the man growled. "Nothing can save you from this fate, not even kindness."

I slammed my fork down and stood, whirling. "I'll have you back up, _sir_ ," I threatened, holding my knife at my side. "I feel a little uncomfortable with people coming up on me unannounced. You'll do well to remember that." I'm not really a people person to begin with, but when strangers come up behind me, I snap to the defensive. I don't care who it is, a person at my back was not to be trusted. Call it one of my rules.

The man simply sneered at me, looking down his long nose. His eyes are just as black as his curly hair and they're stern and resentful. He seems older, but he's a mentor... he couldn't be too old, could he? "This one has spirit, Jade. It seems you won't have to work as hard as you thought you would."

I did nothing more than raise my eyebrows and slowly retake my seat, finishing smashing the vegetables together on my plate viciously. I'm not hungry, I don't want to pretend to have manners, and I dislike forks. In general, I'm irritated and unpleasant, which happens for hours every day. An interesting point in my personality, to be sure, but hard to get used to.

The spiked-haired woman stood finally and switched on the television. "Good, I hate working... it's not like we have to do much anyway. Our districts' kids pretty much learn on their own. Sid, it's almost time... If you two don't mind, we'll be watching the broadcast through dinner. Someone slept late, and _someone_ distracted us long enough for us to forget to wake her."

I was embarrassed, and I only glanced up to see who the distraction had been. I barely had time to see Kingfevin start to huff before I caught Jet's eye.

'Sid?' he mouthed, looking back at the man who was watching Jade talk circles around 'Ollie- _dearest_ ', snapping and poking him in the shoulder.

I shrug and poured gravy on my meat and potato-carrot mix, just to ruin it. I vaguely remember picking at my potatoes as I watched the announcer pop onto the television. I didn't listen carefully, too busy thinking. Jade, and Sid, who had moved away to join his friend, bantered lightly in the corner.

I had known Jade from her Games, and from reputation in the Victor's Village. I had even met her a time or two when I was younger. If I had ever met Sid as a child, I didn't remember, but he seemed familiar to me. Something about his manner reminded me of my father, something in his look. Then he looked at me and all thoughts of familiarity fled. His eyes looked through both of us, one after the other, then went back to Jade as he spoke.

"He looks good this year, as usual," Jade giggled, shaking her head and wincing at the man joining the announcers on television. "Ceaser Flickerman... you strange fool."

"Maroon isn't his color," Sid commented, standing just behind her at the end of the table she was perched on, his arms crossed in front of him. "Don't you think he looks tired? Maybe they'll just give him another facelift and he'll be wise-cracking even better than before."

Jade snorted and laid her head on his arm. "And there we are, the tributes-"

"Hush," I insisted, acting interested in the announcements. Okay, I _was_ interested. "This is our chance to study our enemies, right?" I added quickly. I knew the male was enraged by the way his back stiffened and he looked over angrily, but he didn't move.

Jade smirks and nods, seemingly impressed. She slaps Sid's arm softly, growling for him to stop, before linking her first finger with his pinky as they watch the television with us, quiet as mice. It's a strange motion, and I find myself watching their hands until the anthem starts.

Our District was first to grace the screen, and already my stomach was flipping. I knew I had started out looking weak, I knew how it seemed. Diamond was right... I looked like I was protecting Chiara. I wasn't worried. I had thousands of yarns I could spin about Chiara. I was debating going with mostly truth. Hiding our love was easy, our closeness... not so much. Even still, I could make her family the ones to blame. They were the ones who had given me a shack to live in.

The scene on the television told a different story than the one I remembered. With the sound of the District muted, and the announcers speaking, I focused only on the screen. I had thought I was afraid when I exited the crowd, I thought I had been as frightened as Chiara, but I looked calm and confident... and cold. I kept a straight face as I watched the Peacekeepers drop Chiara and rush towards me, bringing me to the stage. Her tears were still streaming down her face, but she looked bewildered as she collapsed when she was dropped. She screamed silently, I hadn't heard her say my name, but I could read lips well enough to know that she was calling for me as I mounted the steps and crossed the stage.

The expression on my face had been forced, but it looked natural and excited. As the sound returned and the scene played out, I studied my face, my expressions and my actions. They seemed natural enough, and flowed evenly with every action. When Kingfevin asked if Chiara was precious to me, I could feel everyone's eyes on me. My eyes were half-lidded, as if bored, but as I watched the camera zoom in, I realized an important fact.

"Where's your headband?" Jet asked quietly.

My heart lept and my mouth tried to answer, my eyes still fixed on the television. I hadn't thought about it until now! How stupid. I touched my sash, then looked down as if deep in thought.

"It's not under there, so don't even say it is," Jet said quietly. "You didn't have it at the station. I was watching."

"Oooh!" Ollie squealed, leaning forward from his seat next to me. "That's right! You were wearing that when you went into the meeting room, but not when you came out. Did you give it to a visitor? That girl?"

I was glad I hadn't faltered on the stage, but I wished I looked as angry as I was at this moment. "The girl I saved... she has it. She wanted to give me a ring, a gift from her family for saving her life, they're jewelers." I lift my left hand and show them briefly before it dropped back to the table. "I could only have one token and I tried to refuse, but she insisted. I told her it was my mother's and she didn't even care." I gave a short sigh, wondering what I should or shouldn't tell them. Lie? Truth? Both? Nothing?

"Chise?" Ollie looked concerned.

Jet looked away, his expression one of disinterest. He ate slowly, stabbing the fork into the green vegetable in front of him and staring at the screen as he chewed.

I continued, glaring at him, sitting back and crossing my legs and arms. "She took my headband as collateral and made me swear a vow," I continue angrily. "It concerned you, if you must know. Way I see it, if I don't come back, that headband will haunt her for the rest of her life. If I come back, I get my family heirloom back, but lose my friend. It's a win-win situation, if you think about it. That headband would have brought me luck, now it will only bring her tears."

Jet didn't look convinced, though he did express a little curiosity. "You care for that girl... everyone says so. She more than cares for you. You're not just the girl that silently follows her around."

I calmly looked at him before looking back to the television, then the others who were watching me with interest, the broadcast forgotten. I watched as my image pointed at Chiara and snarled my message to her. I would have to speak carefully around these Capitol people, and extra carefully around Jet. It helped that I hated the way he had said 'that girl'. Perhaps it was the fact it had came from his mouth so hatefully, or the nature of a stupid lie I was telling, and trying to tell well.

"She's... sort of like my sister." I knew it would affect the boy, and I was right. He looked away and fell into his thoughts. "She's not, of course, I'm an only child... but after my parents- Well, after they killed themselves, I was forced from my home; after all, children of victors can't stay in the Victor's Village after their parents die.   
"Chiara's parents let me live in their guest house, but made me fend for myself. She was my only real friend... But I was going to volunteer. This year, last year... the year before that. I always chickened out. This year, I got the kick I needed. Nothing more, nothing less."

On the screen, Jet was calling out, volunteering for his little brother. I hadn't looked on the stage, and my image looked miserable on the screen. That could be misinterpreted, and I hoped it would be. To be fair... I had believe that Chiara was really into him. I had never thought her feelings had been projected at me. I had been so focused on more morbid things. "Are you afraid they'll use him against you?" I asked quietly. "The Capitol does that, you know. To keep us in line."

His black eyes snapped and fixed on my emerald eyes, smoldering with a fierce fire. "Emery is mum's favorite, and the youngest. He was so small when he was born, no one thought he'd live more than a year... It's my job to keep him safe."

I screwed my brows up in confusion. This was personal information. Was he giving it to me because he had forced me to confess? "Why?"

Jet's lips twitched, a soft smile as his eyes drifted to a point unseen. "Older brothers were born first to keep their younger siblings safe." If it hadn't been so ominous, it might have been an attractive line. He was dangerous, this one. With a face like his, he'd quickly win a personality contest, and if he had any sort of training, he'd be deadly. I wondered how many hours he had spent training... just in case. 

I liked the sound of it though, it sounded noble, but he said it like it had been quoted to him his whole life. He probably had.

"I swore to my mother that I'd never let them take him," Jet said in a low voice, resigned. "She laughed at me. She said I wouldn't be able to do anything if his name was called. Not that I would be unable, per se, but because I'd be too scared... That I wouldn't take his place out of cowardice."

I understood right off. "Your parents don't look on you favorably," I said, watching Jet's image climb the stairs on the television after pushing back his brother and the fight. It was a statement, not a question. It made more sense, watching the hardness in his eyes as he crossed the stage. He was doing his duty. Not because he wanted to, not because he promised... to make a point to his parents. They didn't want him, so he'd go to his death. His meaning in life had been fulfilled. If he won, he'd go home a hero, maybe his parents would respect him a little more, or maybe they wouldn't care.

"Father never wanted more than a daughter," Jet continued, unbid. "He figured a girl has a better chance to win than a boy; they're crafty, and more clever." His eyes flashed and he glared at the food spread between us. "When he got a son for his first child, he was disappointed. It wasn't hard to see as a child, the way he treated me... By time I was old enough to be entered, my Father had his dark daughter and Mum had a youngest son, the golden boy that would always be safe. It only figures he'd be called my last year."

I sympathized with him. Knowing I would have to try and kill him, and he would try and kill me... It gave us a gravity that we both shouldered bravely. Or maybe we were both in amazing states of shock. We watched the rest of the broadcast, sizing up our enemies. District Two's tributes were so vastly different, I wondered if it had been a mistake. The boy looked brave, his face stone-cold and his arm muscles bulged as he crossed them over his firm chest. 

The girl broke down in hysterics; the small frame collapsing from fear and she lay crying and screaming on the stage. I knew she had no talent, and he was strong. She'd die in the beginning, in the blood bath... but the boy; he'd be a fierce competitor. 

If they were volunteers, it wasn't revealed. I had seen in previous years that sometimes District Two had similar volunteering processes as District One, but other times there were so many volunteers they had to have some sort of method for choosing that showing it was skipped and the victors were shown for the broadcast clips. Tributes wouldn't know each other until the Reaping, and sometimes the reactions were a little strong.

_"District Two certainly has an interesting display of emotion... The male tribute, Brock Stone, looks like he could snap that little girl in two!"_

One year the tributes had been shown at the Reaping with blood on them, fresh blood. It never happened again. I heard they were using a form of lottery system now. You could enter your name up to thirty times for free, with no benefits. No loss, no gain, just a better chance. My bet was she hadn't expected her opponent. My bet was she didn't understand what kind of lottery she was playing.

District Three's tributes were stringy little drips of nothing. They looked at each other nervously, and I saw the thought cross their faces as they looked away sadly. They were probably friends, and now they had to think of ways to kill each other. I tried not to listen to the commentary coming from the announcers, but was unable to drown them out.

_"This group doesn't look like they're strong enough to take District Two's male tribute. Even if they managed to outsmart him, I think they're a scrawny looking group..."_

I had to agree, because I'd had the same thought about me and the tall Brock Stone. Even if I used traps and wit, he seemed strong enough to wield an axe or hammer. District Two was known for their masons, and he looked like he did a lot of heavy lifting. He also seemed to have a spark of some intelligence himself, though in what area was a closely guarded secret. He was obviously going to be the crowd favorite.

District Four had a pair of athletic volunteers, and I knew they would pose a problem with their agility and strength. The girl looked arrogant though, and the boy too cocky... That could be confidence in both of them, or a very useful thing to use against them. I was just hoping that the Arena didn't work to their advantage; snares, nets, and traps wouldn't fool those two.

District Five and Six had no significant tributes, just starved kids standing horrified on a stage, but I watched them. Remembered their faces and their names. They were from lesser districts. Poorer districts. I didn't understand what it was to live like that, but I didn't like seeing the tributes from the lesser districts. I felt for them, knowing the odds were not in their favor, and that stupid saying was just a smack in the face.

District Seven perked my interest. They... they were laughing and high-fiving each other. Such a strange action. I had seen many Hunger Games. I watched them religiously... District Seven was Lumber. They chopped wood, dragged it around, worked it, shipped it to the Capitol... If it had to do with wood, you could bet the wood was District Seven cut. The boy was rat-like, clutching at his hands as he stood hunched on the stage next to the willowy girl. She had the prettiest white hair I had ever seen. Not grey, or even the silver of old age, but white. I can tell she has arm strength, but even still she's thin and looked like running was a pass-time. 

When it's revealed they're volunteers, I can't believe it. I looked to Jet who stared at them disapprovingly. "They're both only twelve?" It slipped from my mouth so easily, I hadn't even time to stop myself. "They haven't even started living, and they're happy to throw their lives away?"

Jade stood suddenly, drawing my attention. "And why do you put so little faith in their abilities?"

I was taken aback. "I didn't say that," I said coldly, glaring at her. "I just don't believe that one should be so excited in the face of Death, no matter their age. Even the glory and the money and all the fine food in the world isn't worth the small slip one _might_ make under pressure." Her calculating eyes were several shades darker than mine, making them look almost as black as Jet's. "It's just my opinion that one should greet death with silent resentment; they make The Hunger Games look like a joke!"

That made Sid smirk, and I returned to poking at my food and the television which were briefly showing a pair of tributes from District Eight. They looked scared, but it was muted by the look of starvation and fatigue. If they rested up and got some food in them... well, who knew, they might be worth something, but I doubted it.

The boys from Districts Nine and Ten were both built, though the boy from Nine was tanned-skinned, leaner and shorter by half a foot. He must spend a lot of time out in the sun, is my first thought. I could only be wary of them, as they drastically outweighed me and were stronger. Martial arts might be able to help if I hit the right pressure points, but I doubted it. 

The boy from Ten volunteered without waiting for a name to be called, striding towards the stage. His mind had been made up from the start. He'd done what I had wanted to do before I froze up. I was also worried about his partner, beside the boy she was obviously dwarfed, but... she had a look about her that I didn't like. She wasn't afraid, she wasn't excited, or confused or worried as he walked up the steps, towering over her. She was blank, and I knew when I saw her empty eyes.

I set my fork down and pushed away from the table, standing as two dark children were called and the scene played out. The boy was little, much shorter than the girl, but he was the bravest I'd seen a youngster look. The girl stood straight, staring defiantly at the children in the crowd, as if challenging them to volunteer for them. Of course, no one did.

I paced slowly, thinking about the expression on that girl, Sierra. Her eyes had been dead, like they had seen way too much death, and maybe even caused it. She didn't care if she lived or died. She'd be the most dangerous to me, because she had nothing to lose. I thought I would have been like her if it weren't for Chiara, and that made me stop and grip my chair angrily.

After District Twelve's miserable and starved looking tributes were announced and stood shaking like leaves on the stage, praying for a saving call they too know will never come. I sat again, and reached for a peach. I had taken a couple of bites, chewing slowly, when I realized I'd been addressed. Bewildered, I blinked and made a strangled kind of noise which I tried to cover up with a cough. "Excuse me?" I asked.

Sid rolled his eyes impatiently, as he took a seat across from me and Jade next to him. "I asked who you thought the strongest tributes were. Pay attention."

I took another bite and slipped back into deep thought. "It depends on what you mean by strongest," I mutter. "Brute strength? Maybe the male from District Two, or the one from Ten. If you take intelligence into consideration, I'm a great contender. If we're going by those who have the most chance to win..." I broke off there. I didn't want to give Jet any advantage by telling him something he might not know. He didn't know faces like I do, he couldn't know people like I do. "I don't know. They're all dangerous, they're all fighting for their life and they're all trapped. Even a cornered mouse will strike at the cat in its final moments, knowing the cat has the upper hand... In some ways, I think the mouse seeks death to escape the pain. In this game, however, we're each a cat and a mouse; both hunter and hunted. Tricky as it may seem, I'm fairly confident in my abilities, as long as I can stay ahead in the game. A mouse building a cat trap is improbable, not impossible."

Jet looked doubtful, but whether it was in my words or in himself I wasn't sure. "That tribute from District Two is a formidable opponent..." he said slowly. "And the only way he'd be killed is if he was killed by several tributes. However, he has a good chance of being part of the Pack."

"Anyone can be poisoned," I murmured, staring at the table. I blinked, then shrugged. "Of course... one would have to find poison, which may either be easy or extremely difficult and pointless. Them aside, I'm worried about the little ones from District Seven. There's something not right about those kids, and I don't want to know why they're so... disconnected. They seem close, which is bad. If they can't be separated, they will have to be killed together. Which means one would need an ally to have a chance of keeping up with them."

Jade beamed at me, Sid remained stoic and silent. "You're really good at evaluating your enemy, Chise," she praised.

I slowly gave her a mysterious smile, showing a little teeth. "I had a good teacher. What I'm best at is keeping the most helpful information to myself, and entertaining others with information that seems important. That will come in handy when I have to kill this one." I jabbed my thumb in Jet's direction and offered him a wink as I took another bite of the sweet fruit in my hand. He scowled.

Kingfevin switched off the television and joined us at the table, looking at our plates in disappointment. "We've offered the best foods and you two have barely picked at your plates... Are you not hungry? Or do our tastes not suit you?"

Jet lowered his head and obediently picked his fork up and began to eat again. 

I glanced at the plate I had pushed away disdainfully. "I'm sorry, I've been too used to nothing, but rice. I'm afraid meat and vegetables take time to eat. Besides, very important business is taking place. Adults talking." I took another bite and held up my peach as I chewed. I looked to Sid and stared until he met my eyes. "Sid, can you tell me about the Arena? Obviously you have no clue what's going to be in it, but can you give us basics? What are the most important things to remember? If you had only one piece of advice to give, what would it be?"

Sid's black eyes were hard as he studied me. "The most important thing for you two to remember is that once you're in the arena, you're on your own. Trust no one." He looked into my eyes, then to Jet, studying us to see how far his message had sunk. 

This is nothing new for me. I didn't trust people anyway, part of my rules. I knew as much as I love Chiara, I'd never be able to trust her. I had already pondered if she had told her mother about her love for me. Or her father. I wondered if she had said anything to anyone, and if so, what exactly she had said. Trust was something to be measured, and no one got close. "Are there any guidelines we should stick to?"

"There aren't rules, but if there is one thing you _must_ be clear on, it's the first minute in the arena." He stands, setting a hand on Jade's shoulder, then down the length of the table on their side. "You'll be launched into the arena from underground and you MUST stay on those platforms until the gong sounds. I can't stress this enough. It's just sixty seconds. It's sixty seconds of neutrality, of rest, and most importantly, time to think. Use it to survey the scene, your enemy, and make a decision for when you are able to move."

Jade shook her head, staring at the food spread between us. "If you try to jump off too soon... BOOM!"

Jet was startled and overturned his glass of blue drink. He frowned and mopped it up with a napkin, and mine when I tossed it to him.

"You'll be blown up," Jade finished simply, her voice sullen as she picked a leg of a small fowl I didn't recognize and bit into the meat.

"Yea," I say slowly, chewing another bite of peach. "We gathered that from the boom."

Her dark eyes looked up, hurt beyond words. She looked miserable. "I've seen it happen, it's not pretty."

I'd heard that before, but the way she said it made me wonder. "You were there?" I asked.

Jade stared at me solemnly, then looked at Sid. It was as if she couldn't bring herself to speak of it.

The man leaned on the table. "I was on the other side of the tribute who died. The fool thought he could launch over it, and he was an excellent jumper. I had just enough time to wipe his blood off my face before the gong sounded."

I say nothing, but I understand. The shock and terror of a tribute's death being spattered in your eyes would make for a poor start.

"Anything that disrupts the pressure plates around the platform will set off the explosives," Sid assured us. "In the beginning, the early games, people used to get nervous and slip, but that rarely happens now. Make sure it doesn't happen to you."

Jade was at his side, silent and unexpected. She hugged his arm and rested her head against him. "When you stand on that platform, you will cherish that minute. It will feel like the shortest moment in your life, so use it wisely. As long as you stay on the platform and don't drop anything, you'll live through it."

I tucked that away and looked bored. "And after the gong sounds? Any tips on that?"

"Run.” It was all Sid offered. It was all that needed to be said.

Jade piped up at that point. “Seeing as you two will probably be safe, the Cornucopia will be full of weapons and food, as well as sleeping bags and blankets... anything you'll need. Still, it may be hazardous. Even Careers turn on each other. The allies you make aren't to be taken lightly; sometimes promises made were just to get you to lower your guard."

Jet looked abashed. "You want us to work with them?"

I gave him a haughty look. "It's the easiest way to gain trust! Offer something of yourself in return for something of someone else's. Quid pro quo. If you're useful and don't pose much of a threat, you'll live longer. I'm sure more tributes will turn on Brock before us. Everyone wants that one dead. Besides, it's not like they'd do it right off... not until the useless tributes are gone usually."

Sid nodded, looking pointedly at Jet. "She's quite right. These games don't just test your physical capabilities; they test your mental skill as well. What you do, how you do it, and how you get away with it is all part of the game. Not to say it won't have consequences, they most likely will, so keep that in mind as well."

"You told us to trust no one. How are we supposed to work with them, or each other, if we can't trust them?" Jet had put his fork and knife down, glaring defiantly at the mentor. "What kind of twisted logic is that?"

"The kind that keeps you alive," Jade said sharply. "You haven't seen it yet. You don't know the sort of things you will allow yourself to do just to win! Just to end it all and go home! You'll promise things one second just to get them to turn around. Five minutes later you're running for your life to the sound of a cannon, hoping that no one is nearby, that you don't stumble into a trap, that your lungs don't give out. Every choice you make, everything you do, will be watched. It will be remembered. If it is found to be unlikeable, there will be repercussions."

Her tone sounded ominous, and her story chilled me. I knew the message immediately. "We're not going to be just fighting each other in the arena. We'll be fighting the game and the people pulling the strings as well."

Sid wrapped his arm around his steamed and flustered partner, giving her arm a squeeze. "Sharp. You'd be wiser to control your tongue."

I fumed, but bit my tongue and pressed my lips into a line.

"I've seen many things the Gamemakers have done to kill off tributes that got too... unruly," he continued. It didn't take a genius to see he was remembering his game, but he was unwilling to say any more about it. "The things you say and do will be reflected in the arena. If you anger the Gamemakers, you will be a target for their cruelties. You, or your family. Or your friends."

Jet was brooding, but he said nothing and refused to look at anyone. I had little time for this attitude, this was the time to learn as much as we could. So I continued, still addressing him. "Allies could come in handy though, especially if we don't want District Two winning another year. We're smart enough to realize we can't win this all on our own until the end..."

"I'm not working with _you_ if that's what you're getting at," Jet spat, shoving his plate away and standing. His chair clattered back from the force of his push, and he stared at it nonchalantly. "I may find allies, but _not_ you."

Sid stepped closer to the table, leaving Jade who twisted around him like they were dancers, and looked between us. "It may actually be to your advantage to get an early ally, most Districts will have had this conversation hours ago! You saw District Seven, you know they're going to be inseparable until the end. They may even be family, you don't know."

Jet shook his head and crossed his arms stubbornly. "I understand the practicalities of it, but I refuse to fight next to her. I don't trust her. She might try to kill me while I slept!"

I shrugged, grinning. "He'd be right, I'd slit his throat for the cameras and then pray to the Capitol, thanking them for my kill." I laughed a little and took another bite of my peach, watching Kingfevin's face as he tried to process my comment and figure out if I was kidding.

"Don't get me wrong, though, I'd wait until it was warranted. Like if you become disabled, or useless, or sick," I nodded, as if it were only practical. "Anyway, I don't like to bog myself down with a lot of people, and I already planned on being on my own." I looked to Jet, grinning smugly. "If you really don't want to fight with me, I'll be sure to join the Pack so you can't change your mind and come crawling back. I'll let them know that you're not to be trusted and we'll come after you first... so don't even run to the Cornucopia."

Jet scowled, running his hands through his black curly hair roughly. "You do what you like. Tell them I said they're all going to die by my hand! It's not like I care very much what happens to me!"

I shook my head. "You still don't understand how these games work, do you? Are you going in to die? Fine, even I can teach a child. If you want to save your sorry hide, if you _really_ want to make mummy and daddy proud for you saving your little brother that they love even more than you... At least take Jade's advice. Run for your life, Jet. I won't be the loner because I'm scared or I have nothing to live for; I'll be the one playing nice to have some security for the first night, and maybe the second."

"Now stop it!" Jade shouted, her face bearing a similar resemblance to Sid's steely gaze. "That's no way to treat each other. You're going to be seeing a lot of each other, and your enemies, in the coming week. You have to at least be civil! There's no way these two are going to get sponsors Sid! They're impossible!"

"Just when I thought they were good, this childishness starts," Sid said in a low growl. "Children or not, you are now warriors. You have no choice in the matter. I think I'd like to take the girl Jade, she's more malleable and stable. You like resistance, take the boy."

Jade nodded. "Very well. That's enough for today. Get some sleep, we'll be pulling into the Capitol in the early morning. Don't speak to each other, don't speak to your Avox, ever, in fact, no speaking at all until morning."

"Practice patience," growled Sid, shaking his head in disgust and turning his back on us to walk away.

I glared at the boy across from me and smooshed my peach pit into my mashed potatoes before standing and stalking out of the room. I didn't want to eat too much anyway. Getting used to a certain amount of food, then overstuffing myself was bound to be a bad idea anyway. I slammed my door and began to pace to calm myself.

I thought about what our mentors had said, remembering all I could about the tributes, wishing I had pen and paper to record my thoughts. The sky was grey outside, making it hard to tell what the time was, but it felt late. I had done either too much thinking today, or too little, and couldn't decide which.

I flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. As I drifted off, I went through the tributes' names silently, over and over.

_Chise Nara; District 1, 18 years old, Female Tribute. Jet Crowley; District 1, 18 years old, Male Tribute._

_Cairn Slate; District 2, 16 year old, Female Tribute. Brock Stone; District 2, 17 years old, Male Tribute._

_Switch Johnson; District 3, 17 years old, Female Tribute. Tessla Nyquist; District 3, 14 years old, Male Tribute._

_Amia Gill; District 4, 15 years old, Female Tribute. Ray Shoal; District 4, 13 years old, Male Tribute._

_Jewel Watts; District 5, 12 years old, Female Tribute. Daniel Volta; District 5, 16 years old, Male Tribute._

_Charon Flash; District 6, 13 years old, Female Tribute. Aken Lato; District 6, 15 years old, Male Tribute._

_Yew Baccata; District 7, 12 years old, Female Tribute. Cypress Lawson; District 7, 12 years old, Male Tribute._

_Florance Silk; District 8, 13 years old, Female Tribute. Hodden Grey; District 8, 15 years old, Male Tribute._

_Poppy Fields; District 9, 14 years old, Female Tribute. Rye Pliny; District 9, 18 years old, Male Tribute._

_Sierra Brand; District 10, 16 years old, Female Tribute. Bos Maverick; District 10, 17 years old, Male Tribute._

_Cherry Meadow; District 11, 15 years old, Female Tribute. Berry Toyon; District 11, 12 years old, Male Tribute._

_Mallow Garland; District 12, 17 years old, Female Tribute. Peat Hilt; District 12, 13 years old, Male Tribute._

Some of them sounded weird, like they were out of a story, or made up... but those were the names of those doomed to die, and they ought to be remembered by someone. Before I knew it, my eyelids were getting heavy and I was slipping in and out. Feeling uncomfortable, I sit up in bed and hug one knee to my chest, resting my head on it. I would sleep that way all night.


	4. Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I'm aware that a lot of the story up to this point is very reminiscent of the books, and District 1 probably is a lot closer than District 12, but considering I have no idea where it is, I made some compromises. Also, considering the AMAZING EFFORT, I'm going through to make ENTIRELY NEW CHARACTERS for the whole fic, I think some similarities can be forgiven.

I woke when the door opened in the wee hours of the morning. It was the girl I had seen before, whom Jade had called Avox. I had little patience for her, especially in my cranky state, and so I watched her carefully through slitted eyes. She placed a new pile of clothes at the end of the bed, then glanced up. I saw her jerk back and freeze, staring at me, a quizzical expression on her face. Her head tilted to the side, but she didn't speak, nor did she even seem to realize I was awake. After a second, she smiled, sighed and left the room, shaking her head silently.

When I was alone, I slowly untangled myself and stretched my sore limbs. It had been a long time since I had slept like this. It was something my father had taught me to heighten my awareness and to protect myself if I felt danger. I knew I would be sleeping like this for the rest of my life; unless I made it through The Hunger Games alive...

The thought forced me from the bed and I stripped out of my dress, tossing it to the floor. I pulled on the tight black pants and the loose short-sleeved tunic that went with it. I quite liked the clothes, despite the circumstances, and found I could move in them easily without being exposed. Seeing as I wouldn't be disturbed for some time, I began my morning exercises. I was halfway through a kata when my door opened again. I dropped my arms and slid out of the stance fluidly, looking over my shoulder to see Sid watching me. I pursed my lips, but didn't speak, waiting for him to give me my orders. The sun was coming up, and it lit the room with a dull red glow.

After a moment, Sid nodded and motioned me to follow. "We're nearly to the Capitol. I thought perhaps you'd want to get some break-fast in you before we arrived. You may answer to let me know you understand."

I made a small noise in my throat, but I didn't speak. I was still furious with the man for punishing me for no reason other than Jet's outburst, but I followed his instructions carefully. He said I could answer, he said nothing of talking. I was seated at the table and buttering a slice of thick toast when Jade and Jet joined us. Jet sat quietly in his chair and began to shovel food onto his plate, refusing to look at me the whole time.

Jade joined Sid, looking a little sourly at the two of us. "If you can promise to be civil, you can speak," she said offhandedly.

"I only have one question," I muttered as I picked up the mug I had poured coffee in. I hadn't had coffee in years, but the smell and taste was enough to chase away any foul mood I had previously had.

Jade glared at me. She obviously expected something sarcastic or snarky. I think I shocked her when I addressed Sid.

"What's your real name? I mean... Sid _has_ to be a nickname. It's been driving me mad." I grinned at them innocently, thoroughly enjoying myself for the first time.

Sid's eyes fixed on mine, and for the longest time he did not blink (although I did) for several moments. It was as if he thought I was mocking him. He must have realized I meant no harm because he gave a slight cough and looked away. "Obsidian," he retorted. "My name is Obsidian. My last name is irrelevant, and hasn't been used in so long, I barely remember it. You can call me Sid, or Master Obsidian. I prefer Sid."

I wanted to laugh, but he was so serious I couldn't help but just nod. I had very little dealings with the precious glass, but I knew its uses were many and it was very expensive. "Master Obsidian it is then, it's a beautiful name. You should be proud of it."

He rolled his eyes and frowned deeply. "So... you two had plenty of time to think last night. What did you come up with?"

Jet looked up from the eggs he was wolfing down. "I'm still not working with her, however, she's right. Without allies, I'll die in the bloodbath. I think I have a good idea of the tributes I think I can use..."

I chuckled quietly and finished my piece of toast, brushing the crumbs from my fingers. "And I've memorized the names of every tribute and decided which ones I wanted to pick off first. Don't worry," I assured Jet as he glared at me. "You were rather low on the list..." It didn't seem to improve his mood. "I also came up with a few more questions."

Jade sighed and put a hand on Sid's shoulder. "Well, they'll have to wait until later. Finish eating, we'll be arriving shortly. You'll want to greet the Capitol with some enthusiasm, if you want some sponsors anyway."

"Actually," I said, forking a link of sausages and lifting them onto the small plate in front of me. "Sponsors were the thing I was wondering about. I know sponsors are important, and they have to do with the gifts in the arena... but how do we get sponsors?"

Sid decided to answer that one. "You get them to like you, of course. Which shouldn't be too hard for you two... if you smile and play nice. The more people like you, the more likely they are to send you things you want or need in the arena. Coming from a richer District, you have better chance of getting the more expensive gifts as well. Jade and I will choose your gifts for you and decide when you need them, if you need them, but without sponsors, we have no money to do that."

That excited me. "For things that could spare me from death, I'd be willing to be Jet's bodyguard." I held up my hands, to show I meant no harm, then skewered a sausage and took a bite. It was so delicious, it was hard not to moan as the juice dripped down my chin, which I quickly wiped with my napkin.

"How do we get them to like us?" Jet asked, ignoring my gesture.

Jade piped up, frowning at him. "You compliment the Capitol, your fellow tributes, and you do everything to show your excitement to be entered in the games. Remember, you two volunteered, they're expecting tributes who want to be there! If you act like this is the biggest waste of time, you'll be forgotten quickly. In your interviews, you'll have chance to shine and show the Capitol, and District One, that you're worth keeping alive. You'll also be evaluated on training days, and a private session where you'll be scored on your abilities; which helps and hurts at the same time."

My confusion must have been evident, because Sid clarified for her.

"If you're strong, the other stronger tributes will feel threatened. If you're weak, you could be targeted." He paused, thinking it over. "Of course, you may be overlooked, but it's rare. Especially in Pack districts, where you're supposed to be skilled. I don't think you can play dumb, but getting an 8 or a 9 wouldn't be too bad. For your district, it's average and to be expected."

I frowned, knowing if I showed all of my skills, I would get a high score. I hadn't considered keeping anything hidden, but it was a good idea considering. "So we have to make sure we appear useful enough to keep around, but not too clever that we appear a threat... that's going to be a huge challenge in itself." My contemplation was cut short when the train went dark suddenly. I gasped loudly and held the table tightly as my eyes adjusted and I could see again.

"Well... here we are," Jade said as we entered the tunnel to the Capitol.

I felt foolish and stood slowly. I couldn't help it. Complete darkness had always been something that terrified me, and I couldn't let that happen again. If anyone found out... I grit my teeth and took a deep breath, calming myself.

Jade cocked her head, appraising us for a moment before nodding. "You look presentable enough. Could do with a pleasant expression, but that's your choice. Everything else, your stylists will take care of. Keep your mouths shut and maybe they'll have mercy on you. You two _will_ change your tune by the Tribute Parade. If not... well, may the odds be ever in your favor. Now go out there and show the crowd their tributes... their heroes."

I wiped my mouth once more and flashed Jet a huge smile. He was just rising from his seat and didn't look too enthused. The Train was starting to slow as I exited the car and I steadily walked down the hall that was made of a tall window that showed the Capitol in all its glory. Or rather, showed off the arriving tributes. I looked up the crowd cheering and waving to us. I was speechless, gazing up in amazement and awe.

I waved back hesitantly, but when I felt Jet step up beside me I cozied up next to him, lifting my head to whisper in his ear. "This could be a lot of fun if you let it." I giggled and took his arm, as Jade had held Sid, waving more enthusiastically to the crowd. I had decided to force him to look good for the cameras, and if he took the bait, we could have a glamorous reception.

Jet sighed and gave a sly smile, pulling me in next to him and lifting a fist into the air as we do in District One. His face transformed immediately and the darkness from his brow lifted. His black eyes sparkled brightly as he finally took in the sight I had. Brightly colored people with strange decorations, implants, and make-ups. By time the train had come to a stop, we were laughing and rushing to exit. The crowd had flooded the station, but there were Peacekeepers holding them back. They all looked so happy as they threw confetti and showered us in flowers of all sorts.

Jet stepped off the train first, then surprised me by turning and offering his hand to help me down. I took it, and smiled, descending the steps to join him. I looked up at Jet as he wrapped his arm around my back loosely, noticing for the first time the height difference between us. I had known he was tall, but he towered over me, and even lifted me off my feet a little when he turned us both to address the crowd on all sides. He looked so much better laughing and enjoying the attention, it almost made me sad that I hadn't known him well until we were sent to die. When we finally released each other, I smoothed my tunic and began braiding my hair sloppily as we were ushered by our mentors and Kingfevin, who looked shocked, but pleased.

As we walked, I saw a beautiful rose lying on the ground, one I recognized. I gave a sharp cry of excitement without meaning to. Breaking away from the group and ignoring the cries of the adults who were guiding us, I stopped short of an angry looking Peacekeeper and dropped to my knees as he lunged for me, reaching for the stem. The Peacekeeper almost tripped over me, but with an accidental step, his foot landed on my hand, crushing the thorns into my palm. I was jerked roughly to my feet and escorted back to the group, but I held up my bloody prize proudly, the sapphire rose miraculously unharmed by the incident.

When I was brought back, Jet took my uninjured hand and pulled me away from the Peacekeeper angrily, glaring defiantly at the man. Without a word, Jet examined the new marks on my hurt hand. He looked at me seriously, and I could feel the cameras zooming in on the cuts. Jet flipped my hand over, looking closely at the ring on my hand, and even holding my fingers as if to show it off. Taking the rose from me gently, he brought my palm slowly to his lips before weaving the flower into my braid. I could hear the crowd's roar as I pulled my hand away and blushed for the cameras.

I glanced back at him with a wink, nodding my approval. We were doing very well, and all eyes were on us. He was going to use his manners and his upbringing as a weapon and I my mind games, my weak charm and my sharp wit; heroes indeed. I smirk and we resume our walk, my hurt hand clenched and my other hand on his crooked arm as he escorted us to where our styling team was waiting. Before we part we give each other another look over, and I try not to linger on the blood smeared across his mouth; my blood.

Raising our fists, we smacked our forearms together in a jovial gesture. It was customary in District One to raise ones fist in excitement or joy, never in conflict. If Jet's mind were still conflicted, he was putting those feelings aside for now. Or perhaps he was lying… Only he knew. "You have something of mine," I murmured, reaching out to wipe my thumb across his lips. I smiled and licked the blood off it, enjoying his shocked disgust, before turning and allowing myself to be led away.


	5. Of Stylists and Parades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I should make some sort of warning here about the future events of this chapter. If you have reservations about groping and sexual harassment, this chapter is gonna be a little bit uncomfortable. In fact, this entire fanfic might be severely uncomfortable.

I was told I'd need to be cleaned and stripped before my stylist would see me, but my prep team was so entertaining the pain was almost worth it. _Almost_.

I never bothered to do more than wash the dirt off my body with the cheapest bar of soap I could buy. When my team saw the fur under my arms and on the mound between my legs, they gasped in horror and twittered between themselves. I was fascinated by their strange way of speaking, but it was their expressions that interested me the most. When they saw the scars on my back, they fell silent and simply stared at me. I could feel them wondering what kind of life I must have had, but I wasn't about to tell them.

Of course, they started with a long bath, which would have been nice if they hadn't been trying to scrub every inch of skin with rough sponges and long tubes of unyielding hardness. I amused myself by letting them do what they had to as I examined them.

Csheza was the youngest and newest. She spent most of the time on my feet, which had horrified her. When I tried to explain I hated shoes, she pursed her lavender lips and shook her head in disgust. After my mud-stained, calloused feet had time to soak, she took out an ornate case that contained many smooth rocks and scrubbing tools. I had always thought taking care of your feet or your body was complicated, so I had never bothered. Besides, I was too busy trying to remember every lesson my father and mother ever taught me. Turns out, all it took to keep your feet pretty was simple scrubbing and soaking, trimming the nails and shaping, then more scrubbing and soaking.

Reeza took on the task of my hair. Being the most experienced, it left her free to titter out commands to the other two. The rose was saved and placed in a slim vase set not far from the tub where I floated. I could tell it was bad, watching her face scrunch and her eyes glare at the ends. She assessed the damage and finally her soft pink eyes suddenly sparkled. "It can be fixed, and saved!" she exclaimed, which was funny to watch on its own. Her clipped way of talking mixed with hissing s's was just silly, but I closed my eyes and tried to keep a straight face. "We will have to trim," she continued. "No more than an inch I think! Oh, it'll be so beautiful for Sug! He turned to me and said, 'That girl's hair is the most beautiful shade of red... I could work with a girl like that, not like last year. All those curls, I hate curls!' I looked at him and said 'Sug, she will be stunning and sweet, just like you.'"

I was proud, hearing those words. If a stylist liked the look of you, he was less inclined to dress you in something more than nothing... or sometimes more likely, depending on the stylist. It wasn't that I was ashamed of my body, I just enjoy clothes. And people not looking at me. I enjoy that the most.

The sea foam-haired girl, Kaiza, pipped up at that point at my hands, having finished binding up my cuts and already working at my nails. They had grown a bit long in the past few weeks. I just don't notice how long my nails are as long as they weren't ragged or dirty underneath. "I heard Sug has the most beautiful rack of dresses he can't wait to show off."

That puts me at ease and I finally open my mouth and speak. "I can't wait to see them!" I gush, opening my eyes and watching Reeza's eyes drop to mine. "District One always gets the best stylists! The chance to look so beautiful for the whole nation is truly an honor." And there it was, my first step towards buttering them up.

It worked like a charm, but as I expected it to, I wasn't too impressed. After that they pampered me with shampoos, conditioners, strange bubbly gels, and lots of combing. My nails had been shaped and new nails weren't even added. They were painted a deep blue and left to dry as she and Csheza darted off quickly.

After my hair was rinsed out I was helped from the tub and patted dry with fluffy towels and powders before I was led to a chair. I was still naked and covered in fur, and very embarrassed. I knew what was coming next by the guilty looks on their faces when they returned with the instruments of their torture. "Oh get it over with," I sigh with a wry smile. "I should be punished for letting such a sexy body look so disgusting!"

And hurt it did. The hot wax, the ripping hair, the tearing... And not just my legs, but my apex, under my arms; even my eyebrows were plucked with threads they twisted together. I was attended to so well that I wondered if maybe they shouldn't have enjoyed it so much. I asked Kaiza to sing to me while she tore out the hair on my arms, to keep me from screaming. When she started a jaunty, happy tune, I couldn't help but smile weakly as the other two join in. As if to accent their song, they twirled around me, switching positions in an odd sort of dance, blending lilac, rose, and teal so often I actually became comfortable, even when they tweezed the rest of my body. I lay there naked and sprawled out on their table, laughing and trying to sing along at parts I knew by repetition, screaming when they ripped another patch of hair out of me. And even through the tears, I still laughed and sang.

They didn't leave a speck of hair on me. Not one. I was bare as a newborn, aside from my head. I felt so exposed, having been touched in very intimate areas, probed and plucked. My skin was treated with lotions and carefully painted with powder until it was shimmering silvery-white and oh so soft. My hair was blown dry, combed and brushed, and dusted with silver glitter to match my skin. By time I was finished I smelled of cinnamon, cloves, roses, and a faint hint of a flower I'd never smelled before. The rose I could smell the most however, but it was altered... sweetened, so it almost covered the faint scent underneath it.

"It's the scent of that blue rose you like so much," Kaiza trilled, pleased with herself.

"We figured since you can't take the rose, we'd make you smell like it. Of course, the complementing smell is the Ancient Cherry..." Csheza said with a knowing smile. "For your... background."

My smile melted a little and I looked away, my eyes hardening. "Yes... thank you. The Sakura was my mother's favorite flower. It honors her to smell this way."

I was part of what was called "the Ancient" race. Orientals, as they used to be called, had become Ancients just after the rebellion of District 13, along with other older races. Both my father and my mother were of the "Ancient" race, but separate factions. There are few hundred left, and maybe a couple hundred more half-borns or mixed blood. Most of them are Peacekeepers, or controlled by trade.

The ones in District One thrived in the Jewelry Sector and made fancy pieces out of shells, glass, and gems. We're set apart by our eyes, which are always slanted and almond shaped, and our sleek and shiny hair, usually black. My parents were both half-born, though the names of races had been lost long ago. My mother had red hair which she passed down to me, and I got my father's green eyes.

It wasn't too big of a deal, I just didn't expect it to be brought up. After all, it wasn't like they hadn't had Ancients as tributes before. If I won, it could help in getting me established in the Jewelry Sector where I hoped to work.

"Then we're all happy!" Kaiza exclaimed, clapping her hands. "If you just wait here, we'll go get Sug and he'll finally be able to decide what to get you into! I think I have an idea though!" She smiled mysteriously, then walked off with the other girls giggling.

I was left confused, but deliciously free. I rubbed my soft silvery skin and ran my hands through my hair. It was so soft it felt like feathers and left free to float behind me, swishing at every turn of my head. It would be styled later I assumed, unless they planned on leaving all this hair flowing down my back. I sat next to the vase that held the precious rose, the one that had sliced up my hand. Reminded of the injuries, I looked at my palms. Any trace of the nail marks and the cuts I got from the thorns were gone, entirely healed. While I was glad they wouldn't mar my hands, I wasn't really sure if I wanted them gone. They had meant something to me. But they had been healed somehow, as if Jet's kiss had erased them...

I scowled at the rose, which had seemed so important, as I jammed the ring that had been previously removed back on my finger. It had played out spectacularly for our arrival, but the meaning had been lost with Jet's actions. Now the Capitol wanted to make us look sweet. That was not what either of us had in mind, I was sure; and I wondered how I could spin our next encounter.

The Tribute Parade. It was a simple enough concept. Each Tribute's stylist dressed them all up to represent their Districts and they rode in Chariots down the street to the Training Center. Being in District One, the Luxury District, we always get extravagant costumes.

Before I could finish my contemplations, I was alerted to my stylist's presence by his deep, booming laugh.

"There she is! Oh my beautiful flower, you look ravishing!" The speaker was a tall, broad, muscled dark-skinned man, and a handsome man at that. His skin was so dark it had a purpleish hue, and his head was shaved. He smiled widely at me, his straight white teeth shining behind wide lips. "You don't know it baby, but you and that boy are really going to wow the judges this year. That rose, that kiss, that welcome! Oh I saw the broadcast, of course, but the way people talk... Well, Ollie is just beside himself with happiness. He's so tired of hard and violent..."

"Oh, well, I have my thorns," I said winking, rising slowly. I was getting the picture. "I'm going to win this thing, even if I have to look foolish. So tell me, what am I going to be wearing to meet my fans?"

Sug chuckled and took my hand, leading me over to a pedestal, and helping me stand on it. He circled me, and for once I didn't mind someone looking. It wasn't invasive or lecherous, it was just to get a good idea of what he was working with. For all I knew, I was nothing more than a doll, or a mannequin, to design a new dress on. Luckily, I was blessed in the breast department, only recently having developed in the past year. I was curved and thin, athletic and toned. It didn't matter what I wore, I would fill it out well. The only problem was my height. I'm shorter than most girls my age. Taller than Chiara, however... for now.

"No worries, little flower, I have just a few adjustments to make. I started it after watching the broadcast and had to destroy several dresses to get it right. I will bring you your dress and the finishing touches will be upon us. Until then, eat! You must be starving!" Sug crossed the room and pushed a button on the wall.

I flinched when the top of table near me moved and pulled back to allow a meal of some strange casserole rise from the bottom. It was beautiful, but I wasn't hungry. I only ate twice a day, morning and night, and never more than to settle my stomach. I had gotten used to being hungry, just to see how the tributes in poor districts did it, but when my rations lasted longer and longer, it began to be a habit... an obsession.

"I'll wait until the feast tonight," I say casually, sitting on the sofa, not bothering to cover myself with more than my hair. "I don't want to eat too much and spoil my appetite. I doubt the Capitol would take kindly to that. Besides, I want to fit into that dress you swear I'm going to win the crowd with!"

Sug gazed at me like his favorite pet, like a small lamb that he would make so beautiful... until I walked to that chopping block to eventual slaughter. Then he was gone. I was left there for some time; I think I even dozed up on the couch, legs and arms curled around myself, wrapped in my hair that glimmered and shone like a ruby. I do know that when Sug returned I jerked awake and slowly, and stiffly, unwound myself.

"She even wakes and blooms like a flower..." Reeza sighed, gazing at me.

Sug nodded, holding out a delicate dress to me. "They will help you into it, and lace it up. It will be uncomfortable to wear, but you will not want to take it off. Zas show her."

I was told to step into the dress which was slipped up about my waist and pulled into place. The dress itself was made of a pale blue silk, had the thinnest straps for sleeves, and a deep cut. It was really held in place by a soft leather bodice of the most beautiful emerald I'd ever seen. The bodice was tightly tied in the back and cupped my breasts, pushing them up and making them feel weightless, showing them off like soft mounds of moldable silver. It did however squeeze my stomach and chest uncomfortably, making my breaths short and shallow.

I look in the mirror and could barely believe my eyes. The front of the skirt was shorter in front, but the back was long enough to barely brush the bottom of my feet. A soft skirt that was quickly pinned to the waist of the underdress with a silk blue rose hiding the pin. It had been designed to mimic the look of a million rose petals of the deepest sapphire feathers, flowing down from my waist to the floor, covering the pale blue silk that peeked through as the feathers moved, and pooled past my feet. I had no clue how Sug had managed the skirt, but as I slowly walked, I watched it flutter. I looked at them all, gave them a confident grin and twirled slowly. The effect was amazing and I only caught a glimpse in the mirror as I turned. The petals floated gently around the silk and made it look like a river of roses spinning around me.

There were sleeves of cashmere that weren't connected to the dress at all, the same color as the silk of my dress, that were carefully tied to my upper arms and adorned with a silver cuffs to hold them in place. They fell just past my fingers, but if I reached out or lifted my hands, they fluttered up my wrists until I dropped my arms again. I think to myself silently that they really completed the outfit and was sure Sug had not overestimated his own skill.

My breaths shortened, and forced into good posture, I stood taller, lifted my chin and stared at my reflection. I looked noble, proud, and beautiful. I grin and look to my dark stylist's reflection, pleased. "It's stunning Sug!" I sighed, my tongue accidentally mimicking the hiss of the Capitol s. It honestly was the best dress I've ever seen. "However, it really needs the touch of luxury. A long strand of diamonds maybe? Do you think we can do that?" An idea had just slipped into my mind when I wasn't paying attention and began to cook, but now that it was there, I couldn't shake it. It seemed to be the perfect jab at a certain visitor I'd had in District One.

Sug looked concerned, but he held up a finger as he thought and eyed my bare throat. "If there aren't jewels, I'll be laughed out of the Capitol... However, I have a better idea." Ten minutes later he came back with the solution. The diamonds I had requested was brought, as well as a necklace of pale green jade that wrapped all the way around my neck and dripped down my chest. Over the necklace, silver chain was wrapped loosely, secured, and allowed to hang down in front of me hanging to my knees. Attached to every link of the thin chain were short thinner chains with diamond pendants affixed to the ends.

Just when I thought we were done, I was surprised for Reeza to bring in one more box. The last touch were the boots that Sug insisted on. I was against them from the very start, but he outsmarted me by grabbing my collar and reminding me, none too gently, that he had made allowances, this would be mine. I agreed quickly after that.

"Your partner will hold the chain," Sug said, releasing me and shoving the cold metal into my hands. "Now let us get those boots on your feet. We haven't a lot of time."

The heels were at least three inches tall, and thin. They also wrapped up my leg and tied at the back of the knee with a scarlet ribbon. They were made entirely of crushed green velvet and looked like death traps. I insisted I put them on myself, and as I tugged them up my leg, I saw what he was attempting to show. The sharp heels resembled thorns and the ribbons were little rivers of blood. The velvet was soft and crinkled with every movement of my leg. I knew they wouldn't be seen much, and they were useless, but I humored my stylist.

I needed help from my whole prep team in standing, as not to rip my dress. Once I saw it all together, I had to admit it looked good. The only things that were left was makeup and hair. My lips and eyes were painted blue, a hue I thought I wouldn't like on myself, but looked surprisingly good with the dress. When he gazed at my face and hair critically, I put a hand on his arm. "Leave it free," I whisper. "Nothing would look better than a flood of blood-colored hair mixing with those petals. I have every other part of me done up and beautified, let my hair be untouched. I'll deal with the bitch of untangling it from the dress later."

Sug shrugged and continued staring at my head. "Not free, but tamed perhaps... I have the perfect thing." He turned and dug through one of his boxes. He brought back a silver tiara that curled around itself like vines, adding to the rose design. He let me arrange it so my hair was pushed back and fell to my waist. Normally my hair was thin, straight and sleek like my mother's had been. Somehow my stylists had managed to add volume, adding in soft waves.

The room was hushed and even I had nothing to say to improve it. I looked like a real tribute, leash and all. I was being lead to my death, at least I'd go in style, dripped in riches. Even if the man who would hold the roped beauty would later try and kill me. That would have to be acted out carefully, and would take all my concentration, and a little luck. I hoped I could press Jet's buttons the proper amount in the proper time... I also hoped he didn't try and control the situation.

When I saw my partner tribute, I was pleased to be wearing more.

The dark patch of hair that had curled lightly over his chest had been removed, as well as the stubble on his face and neck. He was smooth and considerably lighter, though his dark curls had been treated almost as nicely as my hair. He also had small flakes of silver in his hair, which I found very distracting. His stylist, a slim beauty of a man, had draped nothing more than a strip of sapphire cloth about his waist in a short skirt and fastened it with a wide belt of silver. He wore no shoes, no jewels, no protection whatsoever. He looked plain next to my extravagant dress, and it was obvious.

He was scowling until he noticed us; he was a boy, possibly on the verge of manhood. In that moment of recognition, all traces of innocence and anger were stripped away. He pushed away from the wall where he was slouching and looked me up and down, his eyes locking on the chain of diamonds that hung down my front. We had forgotten entirely about our stylists, our prep teams and everyone in the Capitol. It was just us.

I had been nervous until I saw him, then I was resolved. I needed to play him, to go home. Nothing more, nothing less. He was easy, just like every other male. I play like I'm shy and took the chain in my hands, twisting it nervously. "You look... um..." I reached out barely brushing a finger down his bare chest.

He sighed and looked away. "Yeah, I know. You too."

That made me laugh, which forced me to gasp painfully. If I breathed too deeply, my ribs were crushed together and my bodice forced the air out. "It hurts to be beautiful," I say sadly, motioning to the outfit. "So... you like it?"

Jet's eyes swept over me again, a faint smile on his lips. "The whole of Panem will not be able to forget a girl that looks as gorgeous as you..."

My cheeks flushed and I looked away, shoving the chain into his hands. "I guess you're supposed to hold this. I'll look really stupid with it on if you don't, so just... humor them?"

Jet really did smile then, that sly one I'd seen before he'd joined me at the train window, before he glanced to the adults in the corner who were glancing at us between comments, beaming proudly. "Well, with you on my arm or on a leash, I guess they want to establish that you're mine, don't they?"

I wanted to walk away right then, my plan be damned, but everything was going so well... Sug was giving me a reassuring smile, and so I let just a little of my anger surface. "Or maybe that's what you want the Capitol to think! What was that kiss on my hand? I mean... I know I started it by grabbing your arm, but you took it to a whole other level!"

He shook his head and pulled me closer to him. His head tilted down and my heels made the height between us shrink enough that being close to him was uncomfortable. "Oh no..." his voice is low and growling as he smiles, making it look like we were having a secret exchange. "We're still playing your game, I'm just changing the rules. We both know you'd kill me without a second thought, I want you to know I'm not above doing the same. You handing me this..." he held up the sparkling rope of gems and slender silver links. "It's more ironic than anything. When we ride down the street, I'm going to show Panem how I have you under my control. And when I kill you in the arena, they'll see I'll do anything to win."

My eyes flashed, and I did the only thing I thought would revolt him. I stepped forward and rose on my tiptoes to kiss him. It was short, and soft, but despite the hesitation, he pulled me close to him for a mere second before shoving me back. We don't speak, but our eyes screamed our emotions. His rage flicked over me, sharp and electric, cold. I could feel a heat coming from my hands and face, but I stared him down, nearly laughing.

"I will kill you for that," he whispered, shrugging off Silvya's hand on his shoulder.

"I'll kill you for no reason," I remind him, pushing away from the wall and breezing past, lifting the feather skirt so I won't trip. I ignored them calling after me and focused only on the important thing: my dress. I loved the way it felt as I stormed to the elevators and imagined I looked dangerously beautiful. It kept my breathing steady, even though I wanted to scream. It kept me upright when I wanted to melt against a wall, and the effect the brush of it had against my legs distracted me enough to keep me moving.

I had no knowledge if there were cameras watching, but why would I doubt it? Both of our styling teams had gotten a front row seat, it would reach Ollie's ear in no time! It's all a game to them, and we're merely pieces. I was fine with that. I could pick which piece I wanted to be. It wasn't set... nothing was set. _Your own skills shape the game, along with the skills of the other tributes,_ my father once said.

I ignored Jet as he walked up behind me silently, but when he grabbed my leash, I flinched. I didn't expect it, but immediately I looked up at him, my angry glare back.

He was staring at the elevator door, stone-eyed and mimicking Sid's frown rather well. "Let's just make the best of this and save our hostility for the Arena. It's not your fault I'm here, but you are in the way of me going home. I won't let anything get in the way of getting back."

I nodded and swallowed hard. He knew everyone was fighting for the same thing; everyone just wanted the nightmare to be over and just go home. I think of Chiara and hope that if I made it out, she'd still want the monster that would be shipped back to District One. I'd seen some of the victors living in the village, and they were always so scary I was loathe to interact with any of them. The Hunger Games changed people, and it was going to change me.

It wasn't long until we were led to what can only be described as a horse barn. The chariots are all lined up with the decorated horses hooked up. Our chariot was first, the horses were white with a soft sheen of powder blue and silver glitter. They were draped in sapphire silk that would trail behind them as they walked, like my dress would behind the chariot. Oh, Sug had outdone himself! Such a sweet man...

Jet stiffened beside me and turned, jerking me to him, arms around my shoulders protectively. "Care to say that again?" he said in a low growl.

I look up, startled, wondering if he had heard my thoughts. He was looking behind him, shielding me from view. I peek out around him, gathering my feather skirt carefully. Some of the tributes were joining us, I could see Brock standing off to the side ever watchful, but silent. District Two's female tribute, the tributes from Three and Four, the girl from Six, and the boys from Nine and Ten were behind us. The rest, if they were there, were blocked by Jet's broad torso. I hadn't heard what had been shot at us, but from the reaction from Jet, it must have been lewd. I heard it the second time though.

"I said," the snotty girl from District Two, "it looks like Pretty Boy has a horse of his own." Her blue eyes were defiant, and much braver than she had acted on Reaping Day. "If you ask me, the horses pulling your chariot look like better mounts."

I pushed away from him and tried to step back, but Jet refused to release me. I wanted to kill them all right there, and I wanted to get away. Never had I been so insulted, but I understood their jealousy. I was beautiful at a glance, but sexy up close, and I could be sweet to the crowd. Never mind that I had received the best stylists with a vision of using my coloring to bring out the best in me. I just wanted to get to the chariot, but Jet dragged me to his side, shortening the leash. I growled and snarled for him to let me go. This is not what I had planned, and on top of it, I was finding it very hard to breathe. My dress was too tight and the chain was tightening over my necklace...

"Oooh!" the girl from District Four said, bouncing up next to Cairn in her green, turquoise and purple sequined gown that clung to her like scales. "Looks more like a bitch on that leash!" she squealed, pointing and laughing. "Pretty, but dangerously feral. Are you sure you can handle something so wild?"

"You're just angry because she looks better than you," her tribute partner growled, looking at her in disgust.

Jet laughed, louder than I heard him laugh before, and short, like a bark. "Oh, she's a handful, to be sure! If I don't keep her tied up, there's no telling what she'll do to me. The little fox tried to kiss me upstairs."

I stared up at him, horrified. I lost all fight and stood stock still by his side, my mouth pressed into a thin line. The girls were now glaring at me, and I saw the boy from District Ten taking my clothes off with his level stare. I was creeped out and had no other reaction than to shrink to Jet's side, keeping my mouth shut.

"Lookie there... How many of you men can do that?" Jet boasted, laughing. He gave a tug to my leash and led me to the chariot. Sug and Silvya were waiting for us not far off, watching us closely for any sign of trouble.

I say nothing, my mind only focused on damage control. I had kissed him, but he had told. Now the girls were bound to think I was a loose girl who would do anything, even throw myself at my own tribute partner. And the male tributes... I didn't even want to think about that. I knew that these games got wrong quickly, and I knew for a fact rape had been shown in the arena. It wasn't always clear or at the right angle, but it's not hidden, or muted. I was having a hard time getting the screams of a small black-haired tribute from District Three I saw raped by the career boys a few years back before they slit her throat.

"Nara!"

My eyes snap up to Jet, glaring but obviously startled. I'd never heard him call me by name, much less my last. Though it was my proper title, it sounded odd coming from his mouth. It felt too familiar. "Crowley," I answer coldly.

"Chise," Sug says firmly, tugging my face to look at him before I could see Jet's reaction. "You _will_ pay attention when I'm talking to you. I am _not_ going to have some dazzled tribute ruin my night because she's soft. Do I have your attention?"

It was the first time anyone had treated me with contempt, and I felt a little more pressure added. I nod slowly, my eyes watering, but my jaw clenched and my eyes only on him. It was then that I see that Sug isn't just a stylist, he's a man to be respected. He could very well dress me in nothing and let me sit naked for the rest of the week. I saw that in his eyes and I feared him, finally realizing he wasn't as nice and easy-going as I had previously thought. It was the first time I had actually been deathly afraid since volunteering. This man and his pretty costumes were more than just an act, it was my very life in the Capitol.

Sug lets my chin go and crosses his massive arms, frowning sternly. After a second he set to rearranging my sleeves and speaking softly once more. "This is your chance to show the Capitol their tributes and how beautiful they are. It shows the hard work of your stylists. They reflect on us and you simply _must_ show them to their full potential."

"Oh we will," Jet assured him, pulling me close and wrapping his arm around my waist. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of her."

I take a deep breath and put on a beautiful smile. "They won't forget this. I won't let them. You and Syl will be on everyone's lips tomorrow. Capitol women will want reproductions of this dress just to wear in their bedrooms to remember the District One tribute."

"Good," Sug said shortly, but I could tell his ego was properly inflated. "It's time."

Then they were gone, music was playing and our chariot was slowly being drawn out the doors and down the street. The crowd was thunderous, and waving to us, blowing us kisses and throwing roses. They see my dress as Jet gently releases me and mutters for me to show off as he lifts his arm to wave.

I pull away, rushing to the chariot's rail and gazed up at the alien people. I lifted my arm and the sleeve fluttered in the soft breeze that started, as if it had been summoned. It lifted my hair, and in reaction I reach up to touch it, not long, just a second. Then the breeze catches the skirt. It unfurls back and flutters so delicately, I look back over my shoulder delightedly to see the sapphire feather-petals rolling over the blue silk and spilling out behind us. When they start falling from the sky, I look up and see the crowd throwing the roses as well! It had obviously been noted it was my favored flower and I apparently had many fans!

I look back laughing, just in time to see the District Two's grey mares pulling out their tributes. Brock looked even more intimidating in the dark grey tank and the black pants he's clad in. He looks like a stone wall, impassive and bored. It makes me shiver, but I shoot a pleased smile to Cairn. She sees the flowers, even before I point them out for her, and shoots back a withering glare. She looks too ugly to be wearing such a lovely white and sparkly dress, speckled with black and grey. It was either supposed to be Quartz or Granite, I couldn't be sure. Admittedly, it was beautiful and I wondered for a moment what Chiara would look like in it. The thought pulls me back around and I step closer to Jet and raise my hand to the crowd.

Sensing my balance problem, Jet pulls me close to him using the leash. It's that motion that catches my eyes on the screen that was focused on us. His arm wrapped just under mine, pulling me tight to his side, the diamond chain that wrapped halfway up his arm was clenched in his fist, fastened to my neck. He looks commanding and regal, like a dark prince.

Beside him my expression is worried, perhaps afraid, but beautiful and full of rage. The face of someone a man like Jet would want to save... or possibly even steal. The screen made him look like an alien god who had captured a beautiful princess or goddess. I want to say it looks stunning, as the Capitol seems to think, but to me it looks haunting.

It becomes the role for us to play, and so I reach for him and lean closer to his ear, looking intimate. I whispered, aware of the camera watching our approach, and I add a dangerous grin. "I'm not going to be the only one in chains tonight, Jet. I promise you that." I bite his earlobe and make it look flirtatious. "If you thought you could break me, you were wrong." I stepped away and returned my attention to the crowd, waving coyly, as if I were finally opening up.

On the inside, I felt dirty. I couldn't say I was pleased being here in Chiara's place, but I knew I'd rather be doing this than watching her do it. I wasn't proud of the things I had to do, or were forced on me, but there was no choice in the matter. So as I reached for the crowd and greeted them as they welcomed me, I sent a silent prayer that Chiara remembered my words to her. _Believe nothing. Trust no one._ It sounded smart to me, but the last part, Sid's words of advice... They were key to survival.

"You're dangerous when you think," Jet said just above a whisper, pulling me in front of him after a minute or two and pinning me to the front of the cart. Careful not to tread on my dress, he motioned the crowd to direct their attention to the beautiful treasure that was the pleasure to be his. "You're clever, you're crafty; your tongue must be coated in honey to win people over so easily... You have appeal..." He slowly wrapped his arms around me, cupping my breasts with the barest brushes as he reached up with his diamond clad arm. "I told you I wouldn't work with you, I meant it." He drew the chain off and across my neck, pulling my chin up gently to make me look at him.

I could feel him rubbing against me through my dress, and I close my eyes as his face dipped forward and burying into my hair. His hand curled loosely around my neck, fingering the jade beads that hung loose. I heard his sniff over the crowd's obvious thrill from this action; the slight groan that he made was louder than the whoops and calls directed at us. I was frozen and terrified, left only to look wildly at the crowd. In my horror and embarrassment, rage was forgotten. I could feel myself hoping someone would stop this, but I knew no one would. I'd seen worse displays, and knew as long as he didn't kill me, I was safe as safe could be.

He moved against me, not roughly, but enough to make me feel uncomfortable as he held me captive. I pleaded with him to stop, but he ignored me and tightened the angle of the chain. Wriggling an arm free, I lash out desperately by elbowing him in the ribs.

Jet took it with a soft grunt, then a barking laugh as he shoved me to the side, jerking my leash as he threw his fist into the air. He turned his back on me and addressed the crowd on his side, causing the men shout and whoop and women to swoon.

I knew he was laughing at me, further cementing that I was nothing but a tool, but I was forced to save face and act like it was an enjoyable experience. What was worse, he had them laughing with him at me. I made do with what I had. A moment's patience, keep my head, and I would have my chance. The show wasn't over yet. All we needed to do was entertain the crowd our whole trip, and we were doing a good job of it, surprisingly. Whether it was planned or disorganized, it was working. So I made them notice the dress, swishing the skirts and held a hand out for those who reached for me, as if I might save them...

We were nearing the City Circle and I hadn't seen many of those I had waved to, how many I'd had graced smiles on, silently pleaded to help me behind a mask of wonder and pride and love... As we roll into the circle, I see my chance in a glint from the diamond chain that has slipped down Jet's arm and pooled loosely on his wrist.

I reach quickly for the length of chain, swinging it quickly so it wraps around both Jet's wrists. I laugh, amazed it had actually worked, and give a triumphant cry as I lift his captured arms into the air. He'd had me captured the whole time in that tiny ride, and all it took was a little light for me to catch him! The crowd went wild and there was lots of pointing and gales of laughter from tightly o'ed mouths.

To my surprise, Jet is laughing as well. He keeps his arms raised, acknowledging his imprisonment, even though he lifted me an inch off my feet on more than one occasion, bringing another roar of laughter. When the thin silver links broke just above my hand, I land as gracefully as I can and let out a huff of air as I slam against his chest and the chariot coming to a halt.

"If you just wanted to be close to me, why didn't you say so?" he murmured, bringing his arms down and trapping me, curiously still twisted in the bejeweled chain. He lifted me off my feet and held me close to him, knowing I was too tired to fight.

The music ends almost too perfectly and the man high above us began speaking. It's the President welcoming us, but the screens were on us. Each tribute has their last close up shots during the welcome, and I knew this. In large as life view, I have Jet tied up with my own leash, but free enough I'm held to him, my arms wrapped around his. As soon as I see us, I give a pleased and sleepy smile, resting my head on his arm. I had to admit, my feet felt a lot better.

Jet looks down and the expression on his face is so painful I almost cry. I've seen that look before and I shake my head. He doesn't want to focus on dying. He wants to go home, live, and have fun. Maybe find a girl like me and settle down. He gives me the look that a man expresses when he's made up his mind. A second later he bends down and kisses my forehead, the pale light catching the silver flecks in his curls and set them gleaming. His eyes are closed and I see the tears just before they fall on my face.

The public gesture is too much and I want to push him away, but when he sets me on my feet again, I turn to hold him. I wrap my sleeves around him and hold him up for once. I understand. He's saying sorry in the only way a boy with proper upbringing does. I leaned up, watching our image that has been on the screens. Good, they were all watching. "I forgive you," I whisper into his ear, kissing the bottom of his chin.

When we move again, he rests his hand on my shoulder and I hold the cart for stability as we roll around the circle for one last look. I wrap one arm around Jet's waist and rest my head on his chest, my hair floating out behind us in a bloody cape. I wanted to say something; anything to ease the pain of the moment between us, but between us there are no words.

We disappear from view as we pull into the Training Center, and for a moment, I'm glad to be out of view. Or... as out of view as a tribute ever is. After our altercation earlier, the prep teams and stylists were doing a much better job of keeping us away from each other. However, as an expert on facial features... silence speaks volumes. I was a tramp. I was the vixen Jet said I was. I was dangerous. I was now a target. Now was the time to make a break for it. "So... I got your message. Loud and clear. We're not working together."

Jet looked away and smiled a little. "It was such a nice parade, don't you think?" he said vociferously.

I laughed on cue and took his arm. "Oh yes," I said slowly, winking at him. "Though, it's a pity it was over so soon. Honestly, I don't know why anyone bothers watching past District One. Unless they're really desperate to see a bunch of starving artists..."

Jet actually laughed at that, and it reached his eyes, and the crinkle was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. "Ooh, Nara, very witty. I'll have to remember that one in case Templeton brings it up." He offered his arm to me, shooting me a questioning nod to the elevators.

I chuckle and shake my head, taking his offered arm. "That's it, if I win the Hunger Games, I'm going to make my occupation a fool. I'll be the first victor to actually encourage a sense of humor!" It was a short walk to the tube that would take us to our living quarters, but while it lasted, I enjoyed the only game we played willingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be controversial, but this chapter is in my top three favorite chapters in ALL of my writing. It was tricky writing it, especially because I already knew how the next chapter would play out. So, I hope the next chapter reveals why I liked writing something that's been described in other forums years ago as 'trying too hard to be disgusting'.
> 
> There's reasons I have reservations about sharing my work, but that said... :3 I'm slowly losing my respect for the opinion of others when it comes to me, so it's getting easier. #Progress


	6. Evaluating the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter (and every chapter that takes time to give to tributes) the way I did specifically because I hated not knowing anything about most of the tributes in the book series. It bothered me not that so many children were being murderized, but that I didn't know anything about them. 
> 
> Chise dwells on these things, because I dwell on these things. She is me, as a reader, as a fan, as a player. I wrote her this way because I wanted to show a female character that I felt would be real. I'm not a fan of main characters, as an unfortunate rule. There are FEW exceptions, but Katniss is not one of them. She's too good, too perfect, too understandable.
> 
> Main characters need to be messy. They need to be contrary. They need to by hypocritical, and petty, and real... Because if they're always good, if they're always moral... They become boring.

Our apartment was impressive and I had to work hard to not notice it was three times the size of the home I'd been living in since I was twelve! My "room" was the size of a medium sized house's base level, but filled with so many automatics and buttons to do everything for the tributes, it's like living in a whole house in one room.

It's too big for me. I can't stand all the machines, they're overwhelming. I carefully sit in a chair and gaze about the room. Finally alone, I don't even see the things I'm looking at, I simply lay back and enjoy the silence. I see a mirror and gaze at it, my reflection perfectly caught, showing the vulnerability I felt.

I was sitting in the plush chair, legs crossed and red ribbons streaming, skirt hitched up a little higher than I was used to and splayed out across the floor. It was a little dusty, but altogether not too damaged. I felt I could at least wear it to dinner, it being the most expensive thing I had ever worn. The bodice forced me to lay back to breathe, and my hair just spilled down my shoulders and across my lap. I looked like a bloody rose, just the illusion Sug wanted. The only thing I wanted to go was the make-up. After our ordeal, I just wanted to see my face again.

I sweep the skirt aside and push myself up onto my heeled feet. My feet throbbed, but I found them not too unbearable to walk. They were nice boots, I was just opposed to shoes of all sorts most of the time. I practiced a confident strut as I made my way to the hole in the wall that served as a sink. "Remove makeup, "I said softly, sticking my face into the sink. It wasn't unlike the sinks that Chiara's family was able to afford, and a fairly simple concept. I held still as the powder and lotion and make-up was whisked away by mini scrubs and wipes. It was actually rather pleasant and refreshing.

I was sitting in the chair again, replaying the moments Jet and I spent in that cart when Kingfevin came to get me. I would see it again on television after dinner, as well as the other tributes. For the first time I noticed more of the feast spread out before me. I hadn't looked farther than my plate for the last two meals, but tonight Sug and Silvya joined us and I made sure to thank them for their hard work.

"You two looked so beautiful together, the most radiant faces... I had wished you had kept your make-up Chise... you looked so beautiful!" Jet's stylist said, his silver eyes gleaming wickedly.

It was obvious that he felt slighted, but over what I couldn't guess. I responded with a glance at the male tribute sitting across from me. He looked as if he had walked from the elevator to dinner, which he probably had. He looked miserable, so I left him alone.

"Well, I just wanted to see the girl I knew for one more night before I never see her again. I think I'm finally getting the hang of this, and... well, let's just say Nara Chise doesn't exist anymore." I grinned and helped myself to the creamy blue rice dish in front of me.

The first taste was sweet but oddly tart, but my eyes widened and I ate like I had never seen food before. I had a thick stew, a fillet of fish with a strange purple glaze, a thick slab of ham and three legs of chicken which I ripped apart with my fingers to Ollie and Sug's dismay, dipping it in the sauce of the pasta. It wasn't long before I was fighting with my mouth to keep chewing although I was grinning and laughing at them all. I just wanted Jet to look up, or give me a look of disgust, but he never lifted his eyes from his plate.

He was lost in his brooding and had to be asked twice by Silvya if he wanted wine, which he waved on. I took a glass and raised it to the shy boy who offered it to me without a word. I sipped it slowly and watched Jet critically. I wondered what was going through his mind, and what he would say when our little ride was on the screen for the rest to see.

It wasn't until I was eating a small bowl of iced cream that I finally caught him watching me. His eyes watched the spoon for a moment, then went to my eyes. I expected him to look away once caught, but he held my gaze evenly. I set my spoon down and smile kindly. "I think they're going to be captivated with our presentation. It made quite an impression on the other tributes as well. I don't think District Two likes us very much."

He didn't answer, he just blinked and shook his head, returning to his thoughts. He snapped into motion when we were told we were moving to the sitting room, and he made sure to be in the room before I had risen from my seat.

Either he was really excited to see the show, or he really wanted to get away from me. I didn't care which, I had to focus on Sug and his ego. If he was disappointed, he'd let me know and I'd be left to defend myself.

When the program finally started with showing us, I was even more impressed than I was riding through it. I looked stunning some moments, quickly switching to annoyed and angry, then melting back to soft and demure. It was perfect, even though it had been done with no intention. I loved the exchange shared between me and Cairn, which was kept as they entered.

The announcers laughed and commented on me pointing proudly out to her the shower of sapphire roses as I turn back to the crowd and spread my skirt, curtsying to the crowd before it flashed to Cairn's hard glare, eyes fixed on me. I could tell she was wishing I would drop dead right there in that chariot.

_"Spectacular show from District One this year. The female is very beautiful and she knows how to stir up the crowd and the tributes! The male, though, he seems very possessive of her. I wonder if it's just an act or if he truly cares for her! She certainly seems to be spurring him on with those- did she just bite his ear? Oh my, well there certainly is something between them!"_

I laughed, drawing the attention to myself. "If only they saw the cat-and-dog fights!" I pointed out. Sug frowned, but Silvya and the prep teams smile and start twittering about how sexy we looked, how the makeup accented our features and made us look Capitol born, the usual strange things they think are complements.

Jet rolled his eyes and stared at the television. He's morose and the dark cloud around him had returned.

The cameras flash to District Three's chariot and I shake my head. At first, I'm confused which is the girl, as the boy's hair is just as long, and just as twisted up in wires of different colors. When it flashed to the front, the girl was easy to spot at once. She was taller than the boy, and her hair was the prettiest chestnut, and made to look exotic next to the green wires that weave throughout small braids and corkscrew curls. She's slim and lanky, all arm, which is noticeable next to her green dress that falls to her feet. It too is covered in wires, only blue, and it looks like a circuit board. The boy stands to her shoulder and his head is adorned with a twisted crown of black wire. He's wearing what appears to be a black skirt, done in red wiring.

I expect to see the thick-lipped District Four girl, Amia, in her sequined dress, but the camera was drawn to our chariot where Jet was pulling me in front of him. My face went red, remembering how this had ended. However, as I watched, it just seemed part of the show. I wondered what District One would think.

I was never very popular, but I had a very small circle of friends that believed as I did, that anything more than personal training for the Games was unfair. Our time spent out of work was wasted on doing leisurely things. Book clubs, drawing, lounging in the park, and talking of our hopes and dreams. They wouldn't believe this Chise, it was unlike me. Chiara wouldn't buy it for a second, I hoped. But the tribute-hopefuls watching, envious at my position, probably seething because Jet wasn't holding them so close. They would be buying this and calling me a whore in an instant.

I looked to Jet, wondering what he was thinking. He was staring intently as the image of him holding me, face buried in my bloody hair. As I watched from the crowd's perspective, I saw the look on his face, commanding and wicked, vanish. It was replaced with a look of peace and enchantment, then a hint longing. I'm floored, glad I was sitting as I gazed at his expressions shift during the scene.

It had felt so wrong, being the prop of a nasty joke. Watching what I had been unable to see, it was as if he couldn't help himself, he had been overcome with desire. Unconsciously, I reached up and touched my throat, feeling only the cold jade collar that was left. He hadn't hurt me, the whole time he had used our costumes to weave a story. The story of a man overcome by a goddess of flowers or something, my father would say. I had worse fairy tales from my mother who had heard them from her father and as far back as the Ancient days, but I remembered everyone watching that ride.

The words he had whispered had been lost in my hair, but the desire is blatant. When I lash out, I smirk to myself, but that is quickly wiped away when I see the flash of pain he expressed before he angrily shoves me aside and laughs haughtily. "Oh..." I sigh. I looked to Jet, feeling his eyes on me. Sure enough, he's staring silently across the room, a pleasant smile on his face. "You _are_ good," I say.

The clip had lasted no more than a moment, though it had lasted much longer in my memory. Watching it from his perspective made it last far too long. He had turned the Capitol's memory of me to his advantage. If I had sponsors from the awe of Sug's dress, Jet had taken them by molesting me in front of the world and making it look so glamorous. Jet's costume had been far outshined by mine, so he did what he had to do to get attention. It crossed my mind that perhaps that's why Silvya had felt snubbed. Glancing over at him, I saw the raised nose and the squint of pride that confirmed my notion.

Jet had played my game perfectly. If things aren't going your way, force them to go your way.

_"Well that takes care of any questions we had earlier. That boy certainly has made a claim on that delicate flower! Oh and she's feisty! Look at that! Oh, now look, she's hurt his feelings!"_

The laughter carried over the shocked faces of District Four that had their time cut in half by that act. The boy with the thick longish copper hair was laughing, pointing ahead to the short black haired girl beside him. She was scowling and rolling her eyes, quickly trying to attract as much attention that she could with the gorgeous scaled dress that accented her curves perfectly. I had to say, if it weren't for her large lipped smile, she'd almost pass for desirable. I wondered if she was the prettiest girl in her village, where I was just a face in the crowd in my city. I admired the metallic paint job on the boy however, and I made a point to say as much. "I mean, it's not sequins, but the light does sort of make him look like a stingray..."

Jet looked at me blankly. "A stingray?"

I flushed, but composed myself gracefully. "Yeah, they're sea creatures. They taste absolutely delicious too. I figured they painted him up like that to be like... a representation of his District. They're fish."

Jet looked impressed. "I've heard of the usual types of fish, but I've never eaten exotic food."

"You simply must," I insist seriously. "They're the tastiest if prepared right. I've had it before when I had some imported. Blowfish too... dangerous, but delicious."

"Dangerous?"

I shushed him as District Five came on clad in nothing but a string of bright flashing bulbs. The boy tribute pressed himself to the front of the cart to hide his groin, but waved bravely, his square jaw clenched. The girl broke down entirely and hid her face, even though she stood tall, lit-up legs carefully kept closed. I had a sudden impression that if she weren't so embarrassed, she'd have been standing proudly, tossing her satiny blonde hair. It was all how she held herself. Firmly, but demurely, arms crossed, a hand tactfully blocked her face, covering one breast with her arm, and her hair swept down the other side of her head to cover the other. There was nothing she could do about the back as she rode down the street and the Capitol got a good laugh at her bare bottom, perfectly lit up for them.

The spectacle put a bad taste in my mouth and I took a sip of wine. The wine swished in my mouth, bittersweet as the moment. I shook my head and looked away until I heard Silvya's gasp of wonder. I had to admit, District Six did look good. All sleek and silver, and flashing. I smirk to myself when I remember the girl's last name is Flash. I wondered how livid Flash was at home, seeing her name on another girl, and my face smiling back at her, while she sits at home, one year too late.

The girl has dark hair, but it's too grey to call black, with no luster to it at all. Her eyes are just as dark, and she looks withdrawn and stands unmoving the whole time. Her partner is a younger boy, even though they are the same height, and he waves a couple of times to the crowd, but he's shy and it's easy to tell he's scared.

District Seven, the girl and boy stood back to back, both dressed in strange outfits. I giggle, though I try not to. _They look like lumberjacks,_ I think, trying not to make the humor to apparent. The girl's hair is stark white against the dark shirt she wore, and she's got her arms crossed behind her head, seemingly whistling, ignoring the crowd. The boy beside her pushes the specs he's wearing up his nose and says something to the girl, who answers in turn.

I shake my head, watching them. It's like they understand what's going on around them, but they weren't paying attention. They were pointedly ignoring everything around them. The only people who mattered were them and them alone. Disconnected...

The slim girl from District Eight was dressed in a cute grey wool dress. The sleeves are long, but thin, and it looks comfortably warm. It falls to her knees and shows off her ugly shoes. She seems calm though and smiles for the crowd. The boy beside her is just as calm, although he seems to be thinking about something seems to cross his mind every so often. He's bare-chested, and he is wearing a knee length skirt! An actual skirt, not like Jet's or the boy from District 3. It's the weirdest grey brown color I've ever seen, but appears to be made of wool as well. I was guessing he wasn't wearing anything but that skirt.

It wasn't long through District Nine's that I began to feel ill at ease. The girl, Poppy, was dressed in a golden backless gown that fell sleeveless from her throat to the floor of the moving cart and showed off her tanned skin. When the breeze caught it, I could see it flutter and I wondered how the stylist had done it. It looked like a wave across a field of tall grass. Their District is Grain, I remember.

The boy beside her looks relaxed and pleasant, his auburn hair brushed back and gleaming darkly under a headpiece of woven wheat. He's dressed in a thin white shirt tucked into tight brown pants and bloused around the thick black belt at his waist. His pants in turn were tucked into his knee high boots, making him look like some sort of owner of a great plantation. It was the cape of gold that streamed out behind him that made him look so regal. He actually appeared to be a knight or a prince. His confident smile, his demeanor gave the impression he was just off to war, and he'd be back soon to whip his slaves who pick his crops for him. Except he wouldn't be coming back. Not if I had anything to say about it.

I caught myself chewing on my cheek and glanced to Jet. If Silvya had found pride in his tribute, would Sug be more critical of my actions? I remembered the fire in his eyes when I had lost concentration. I didn't have more time to think because soon the camera was again focused on our chariot where a scuffle had broken out.

They hadn't caught the way I had gotten the chain, but the cameras fixed on us from the front as I twisted the slim chain of silver links and shimmering diamonds over and under his wrists. I had made the captor the captive, and I agreed it looked comical as Jet lifted his arms and gently swung me around him until it broke.

The expression on District Ten's girl, Sierra, who was shown watching on her screen was worth any negative feeling anyone could have had, Sug included. A slight smirk, just for a second, and blank again. She was dressed in a ridiculous farmer's outfit, showing a lot of leg. Coveralls, the poor dear. I felt my heart go out to her as I tried not to focus too much on the scowl on her partner's face. He brooded as he raised his arms for the crowd, showing off his muscles. District was Livestock... it wouldn't surprise me if they put that simple mind to work smashing the heads of cows.

I shudder as if cold and Sug wraps his shimmery robe around me.

"I'll admit, it wasn't made for warmth, but you sure shined baby."

I smiled and hugged him. "It's all thanks to you. Back home, I'm just... plain."

"Foxy, she means," Jet shot over, still grinning. "She doesn't know how many people like her while they pretend to hate her. She's impressive, but mouthy. She's gorgeous, but vicious."

I sigh, admitting the truth to myself for the thousandth time in my life. I never made it a secret that I would do anything I had to, just to get by. "It's a curse."

The screen had returned to the last two districts. Eleven was interesting, and I had to commend the stylists. They were both dressed as trees, which I would have expected for District Seven. They seemed stiff, but the girl waved to the crowd with her brown arms that appeared to have been darkened with paint and decorated with bracelets made of grass. She looked lovely waving so excitedly, and it surprised me that she was just a year older than Chiara.

I was tickled by the girl's gown. I noticed her stiffness was due to countless wires from waist to chest holding brown and green material in various positions, flowing up the dress in strips to resemble leaves. Her hair was covered in soft pink flowers that also dotted through the leaves of her dress, fluttering like the petals on my dress. Her legs were mostly covered by a shredded skirt of brown to resemble bark and roots. I was drawn to it instantly, and I toyed with the skirt of my dress as I examined the boy beside her.

He was dressed similarly, only his pants had wire twisted all the way to his bare feet and his leaves were green, no flowers. Instead, he was covered in palm-sized red berries that looked absolutely delicious, but dangerous. His face was twisted in silent rage, his arms crossed over his small chest as he stood still, refusing to do anything. They wore spiky crowns of stiff grass that clashed with the outfits, and a real shame. If they hadn't been wearing those garish crowns, their outfits would have been a real success.

District Twelve was their usual miner look, and I watched quietly as the camera swept over us for our last close-ups. Jet was looking down at me, his curls and the angle hid his eyes, and the tears that began to roll down my face before he kisses my forehead. I'm horrified, and when I turn to hug him and the crowd ahhs... I'm standing and walking around the couch to get away.

I couldn't take it anymore. I knew what happened, I had been there! They didn't see the expression on his face! They didn't see him resolve to kill me! They all seemed to think we were lovers! The thought disgusted me, and I couldn't stand the sight of everyone congratulating Jet and I on a job well done, the act was really beautiful...

It wasn't. It was sick.

I hid in a corner and held myself. It was the only amount of comfort I allowed before starting my calculations again. I managed to steel myself before Sug came to tell me I could return to my quarters if I wished. I assured him I did, and I would get his masterpiece back to him. As long as he walked away smiling, which he had, I was safe from his wrath. That was simple. With Sid, there was a challenge. He stopped me as I walked across the room, stepping in front of my path.

"You two need to get your tension under control. I thought I told you to practice patience!"

My jaw dropped and I took a step to the side, slipping around him as he reached to catch my arm, my hands focused on my skirt. I was glad for the boots at that moment, providing the perfect amount of slide and drag to pull it off without getting tripped up and falling over. If I ripped my dress, Sug would never forgive me. However the action surprises us both, and it reminds me of the footwork he and Jade had on the train. I knew with a little training, he could teach me how to be that light of foot.

"I dealt with the situation as best I could," I growl, stepping back, eyes warning him. "Jet tried to play a game he couldn't win and realized it halfway through that little ride. Trust me, there will be little interaction between he and I from now on. Until the Arena, Jet!" I called gaily, waving to my rival.

Sid scowled hard at me. "Tomorrow you two will begin training with the rest of the tributes. Try to be ready in the morning, because if you aren't they will be watching for any sign of weakness. This drastic turn in attitude is vexing, but preferably for the best. You really are a poor team."

"I'm ready now, except I'm tired Master Obsidian," I insist, using his name to show my seriousness. "I'm not just a pretty skirt, you know... I'll see you in the morning." I bowed to him shortly and left without another word.

I undressed carefully after wrestling with the knot that held my bodice on behind my back. After it was off, it fell from my skin leaving me standing in nothing but my jewels, sleeves and boots. I step out of the dress and pick it up, laying it out on my bed. The sleeves brush against my naked skin and it feels so... soft. I take them off, despite how much I want to wrap myself in them and sleep. I undo and tug off the boots, the tiara quickly joining the arm cuffs. I wished it would all disappear and I'd never see it again. Beautiful as it was, it looked like a burial shroud, a dress for the part of me that had died. I took the necklace off last, having always wondered how rich people felt standing in nothing but jewels. I stood next to the window and gazed out at the bright buildings. I felt nothing.

In disappointment and frustration, I removed the necklace and throw it to top the pile of things that were no longer mine. Stalking to the shower, I find there's a glass door that separates it from the rest of the room, and stepping in I stare at the wall of buttons in dismay, contemplate not showering, then try and find the simplest options. Warm shower, rose shampoo and conditioner, lime body wash, scrub, rinse, and after the cleaning ends, I stand under the water for several minutes just enjoying the warmth.

When I step out and am greeted by a blast of hot air from the mat beneath me. My body dries quickly, and even though I know there's a machine that would deal with my hair for me, I spend the time it takes to untangle my hair and braid it most of the way down before securing it with an elastic band.

It's then I realize that my dress and everything I had worn tonight was gone from my bed. I was happy to be rid of it, but I wondered who came in my room while I was showering. I figured it had to have been a servant, or even Sug, and pulled back the covers. I didn't look for any clothes, I was too tired. I just bundled under the soft sheets and warm blankets.

I thought I'd fall asleep right off, but for several minutes all I could see was Jet's face in the City Circle as he shed those tears, the tears the Capitol made to look like mine. There would be no more kindness between us. There would be no more hugs, or kisses, or jokes or smiles... and definitely no more tears. Now was the time to become the warrior, now the games really began.

The part that hurt the worst, as I lay there silently crying and begging for sleep, was how badly I just wanted to be held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think most people believe that this story will have clear lines. Please let me dash your hopes. Antagonists aren't always evil, and that is something very important to me in this story. The evaluation of the word EVIL will be truly tested, and I hope that comes across in the next few chapters.
> 
> No real reason, it's just my favorite way to write, that's all.


	7. Blade Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I don't dance. It's actually quite disappointing, and a factor in my life that does often make me sad. That said, I do recognize facta, and footwork is important in many different areas. Swordplay, definitely. Back of the house in a kitchen? Absolutely. Tactics on a battlefield? Slightly, but undoubtedly a factor.
> 
> This chapter was important for a few reasons, but mostly, it was a lamentation of a skill I'll never perfect because I had ended a relationship with my (then) fiancé and the last time I danced with a human was at my cousin's wedding with her husband's brother when I was 16 and had no appreciation for the finer things in life.
> 
> However, I do practice alone. Because I plan on working in a kitchen until the drinking kills me, and it's viral for maneuverability.
> 
> How this all actually works out in actual choreography and swordplay, I don't know. I haven't advanced to that level in my life yet. Maybe next year.

Morning came too soon, and I wake at the slight click of the door opening. It was the girl from the train and I rise slowly as not to frighten her. She is carrying clothes and begins to lay them out when she sees me move. I smile at her and motion for her to continue as I stretch. When I finish, I slide out of the bed and dwell on the wonderful dreams I had that were slipping away. It was so warm and comforting, not frightening at all. Just when I think maybe my mother and father had been there, I see the girl moving to leave.

"Wait," I say, catching her attention. "Were you the one who took my clothes last night?"

She looks frightened, but she nods and starts to go again.

I let her, wondering why her actions were so strange. However, I was glad it was another female that had seen me showering. If it had been Sug, that was one thing, but a male Avox seeing me naked was just one too many people this week. I look over the outfit I have been brought and am pleased with what Sug crafted up.

It is lightweight, and extremely thin, despite the four layers he wanted me to wear. The first was skin-tight pants of the deepest forest green I've ever seen. Under that there is a long sleeved leotard, standard black, a thin-strapped silk underdress of a vibrant green, the color of new leaves in the spring that falls to my knees. The overdress is thicker, velvety soft, and mint green. It's sewn to slip over my head and hug my form flawlessly. It's short, halfway down my calf, but with the underdress, it looks like it had been made to go together, and I am able to move easily.

A vivid green sleeveless jacket with tiny five-petal pink flowers cascading down the back was also provided. I don't like that it falls to the floor, or that it's held closed by a simple silver leaf clasp just under my breasts, but I have to admit, the way I walk gives the back of the coat a certain flare I like; the pockets hidden inside were a nice touch as well. It isn't like I have to wear it the whole time, either.

I scowl at the black leather boots provided, and when I put them on (muttering curses the whole time) a plot to lose them began to sprout. _At least they don't have heels,_ I muse to myself. All in all, it isn't a bad look. My hair is still braided and I leave it, knowing the longer I have it tied back, the better it will look when I brush it out later.

My only focus is coffee, and I find it already brewed in the eating area. I am sitting, sipping on my second cup, halfway through a small plate of eggs, and humming a tune my mother had sung when I was little. I am joined by Kingfevin, and Jade not long after, which brought an abrupt end to my song.

They seemed in high spirits and I smiled as I bid them good morning. We spend the next few minutes gushing over the parade last night, the thoughts going through my head, my perspective of the act (embellished, of course). I had just beginning to run out of things to say when Jet dragged himself to the table.

He's wearing a sleeveless hunter-green tunic over black slacks, and thick black boots. He also sported dark circles under his puffy eyes, red like he'd been crying. He eats slowly, doesn't participate in small talk and barely says more than "please" and "thank you".

I blink, annoyed and bored, likening him to a crow before spooning more sweet rice pudding into my mouth and watching Silvya join the table. He looks like a well-rested angel, all sleepy smiles and soft words sweetened with sarcasm. I was disliking Jet's stylist more and more. In fact, even Sug's loud laugh was getting on my nerves and his jokes seem tasteless and tacky. I feel disgust and irritation pour down me like it had been in a bucket above my head. First a trickle, and then all at once.

Luckily, all I have to do is say nothing and practice patience.

As if my mind were an open book, Sid sits next to me with his plate of food. "You look like you slept well," he says quietly, glancing in my direction.

I shrug and smile a little. "You know, as well as one sleeps..." I let the sentence trail off and return to my food.

Sid seems to understand, and he lets it go. "We will talk later about your strengths and weaknesses." His eyes narrow as he looks at me. "I want you to stick to basic stations today. Do what you like, but don't give yourself away."

I nod, knowing he had caught me on the train. He knew I used martial arts, and had before he even caught me. I was sure of it. "My father gave me all the information I would need to enter these games. I think he always knew I was going to enter..." I can't say anymore or my throat will close up. I take another nibble of bacon, but find myself unable to swallow easily.

Sid doesn't move, doesn't look up and barely murmurs "The Crimson Blade... yes, I have heard of him."

Jet is watching us curiously now. "What, is your father famous, Nara?"

I almost answer when I realize something. Jet has never called me by my first name. He is insistent on calling me Nara. However, now he doesn't seem to be mocking me. I have to say, it pleases me. So I lay down my spoon and rest my chin on my linked fingers. "You could say that... Before he became a jeweler, he was a victor in the Hunger Games. Ollie mentioned it when I took the stage in District One."

"One of the more thrilling Hunger Games," Kingfevin adds, spreading a creamy cheese on a slice of toast. "Your father was a favorite from the beginning, despite being so silent and sullen. I see him in you when you scowl, although, you greatly resemble your mother."

I am surprised at that, but I refuse to ask him how old he was. He didn't look more than twenty, but that could mean any age in the Capitol! I wonder how well he knew my parents, but I don't have the voice to ask. In that moment I miss them more than I ever had. I wish they could see me now, holding together, making them proud.

"It seems we have a family tradition!" Kingfevin concludes, laughing lightly.

"You must know a lot about the Arena," Jet says, looking thoughtful.

I shake my head. "No. After all, every arena is different. I just know how to survive, and that's the important thing."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Jade agrees. "Well well, you are an interesting girl!"

"Or an unlucky one," I said, wondering when they will realize my parents are both dead. If they plan to acknowledge it at all... "Well," I sigh, wiping my mouth and standing. "That's enough of that subject. I'd like some time to myself before we head down, and I'd like to be early to get a look at what they have!" I excuse myself and leave my dishes to clean up, fingering a bit of the thick syrup to suck as I walk away with my coffee.

I take it to the window where I look over the city. It was eight in the morning, sun in the sky and the Capitol is almost dead. It seems these people got to sleep in while we exchange pleasantries and contemplate the end of our lives. It is so peaceful in the empty room I can't even give voice to the irritations in my mind. I still feel drained, like I had slept well, but I hadn't rested.

I finish my drink slowly, planning how I would use the day. I want to start with a weapon, but not a sword. If you start with anything less than a melee weapon, you won't be taken seriously. I know that I won't need training in arms, but if I did what I need to do first, I could do what I don't when it doesn't matter. Even waving around sharp things gets boring after three days. I decide spear training can wait as well, even though I know there will be plenty spears in the Arena. They were the most common weapon and have always been in the Hunger Games as far as I could tell. I could leave archery for the last day, as well. I have never shot a bow before, but I learn quickly and I will only use it as a last resort weapon anyway.

Fed up with all the decisions, I set my cup down and head to the elevators. "Sid!" I call, seeing him. "Take me to the training rooms early, please?"

He turns the corner and eyes my outfit, frowning. "They send clowns out to learn to kill."

I push the button for the elevator and give a little giggle. "Oh, but don't you know? The hardest face to read is the one that is laughing."

The ride down in silent, despite my attempts at small talk. He leaves me in the training room where a few other tributes have already gathered, joining the trainers on the far wall. I see many stations set up and aside from the weapon stands. Targets are set up for archery and throwing weapons, there is an area for learning knots and snares, a place to use mud and other means to camouflage, a plants section, and ropes up and around the room for climbing.

I slowly take my coat off and hang it up carefully on a peg sticking out of the wall. I warm up nearby, starting small physical exercises. I stretch my back, arms, legs and do some core crunches and bends. I am rolling onto my hands when I feel a shadow fall over me. I push myself into a handstand and concentrate on that task only. When I find my balance, I look up and see Brock watching from a safe distance, but in my light. "You don't say much, do ya?" I ask, flipping to my feet.

His face is impassive as it had been during the tribute parade, but his lips twitch after a second. "They don't like you," he says in a low gravelly voice.

"I know."

His eyes sweep over me, but there's none of the discomfort I felt last night with the other boy tributes. It is as if he is simply sizing me up. "You made Cairn angry during the parade. She wants to kill you."

I shrug and cross my arms loosely. "Well, the whole point is to be the last one standing. I'd be insulted if she _didn't_ want to kill me."

Brock nods slowly, then laughs. It is the strangest laugh, sort of like a dust-choked cough and a wheeze that fades away. "I like you."

It is my turn to laugh. "You're not too bad yourself, big man! I mean, you're intimidating and huge and quiet..." I try to smile, but seeing the small group of careers already gathering and glaring in our direction, I change my mind. I purse my lips and look at him seriously. "You have to know that they're going to try and take you down together."

All trace of the shy smile he had offered was gone. He is back to being unreadable again. "I know." Without another word, he turns and leaves me staring after him.

I see Jet arrive, but he makes no move to join me, or Two and Four. I am still deciding if I want to join them myself, or if it is even an option. If I join them, it'd be more work than I wanted to do. If I didn't... well, that would mean even more work and a possible horrific game. So I wait until a trainer comes to pin a cloth with the number 1 on it to my dress and we are instructed to turn our attention to the woman who seemed to be in charge.

We're told all the stations are open to us, but we're still not allowed to spar with other tributes, so trainers have been provided for us. The Gamemakers show up and sit, some looking us over, most falling into conversation with the others. When we're released, I watch the stations fill up quickly. Most go for a blade, a few knives. The Lumber tributes, whom I've started calling "the twins" even though they look nothing alike, and possibly aren't even related, head straight for axes. I see Brock lifting weights with Jet in the corner and wonder if they're talking about me.

I try to find stations no one's at. I do ropes first, because no one seems paying attention to them. I find I'm a bit slow at climbing, but my movements are deft. At the top I hop to another rope and find my feet. From there it's easy as walking, climbing around the edge of the room, over crossed ropes, swinging down and dropping down to land next to the girl tribute from District Five.

I had expected to give her a fright, but she just looks over, eyes me, and returns to her knot. Sliding up next to her, I offered a little smile as I pick up a piece of twine. As I had learned to sew at a young age, knots and stitches came easily to me, so I tied a few in silence before I struck up conversation. "Shame about your costume last night. I saw it on the broadcasts. You'd think they would have done something more tasteful for one of the most important Districts."

The blonde girl fixes her amber eyes on me, her lips twisted into a scowl. "Are you here to mock me, or are you really stupid?"

I shrug and hold up my bowline knot. She's twelve. I remember from the nightly repeating of our names in my silent prayers to empty space, asking for nothing more than the memory of our names. I understand her demeanor, and so do nothing but stay quiet for another minute. "To tell the truth," I say quietly, "I'm here to learn fishing, but I'm starting one step at a time." After a pause, I look back to her. "I was being serious. Your District deals with Power right?" I wait for her to nod and see her shoot me a dirty look. "So your district provides all the electricity in Panem, and they send you out with nothing but lights? Forgive me for saying so, but it would have been better to drape you in copper and then twist the lights around you that way. Sending you out naked doesn't get you sponsors."

Jewel purses her lips and focuses on the snare she's sorting out. The instructor is looking at me in horror, then glances around to make sure no adults had heard. I am confident they hadn't.

When she refuses to bite, I start up a snare. I can sense she is still listening even though neither of us has spoken. I wait until she is almost finished, then turn to her. "Still... I would have rather been you last night."

The girl's face is so plain, but I find her light spatter of freckles cute. Her expression never changes as she nods. It's short and sharp, without much emotion, but I knew she understood. "I wouldn't have traded my nakedness for your pretty dress last night if that's what it meant."

I shrug again and fall silent. I wonder if she would believe me if I told her it hadn't been an act; that I hadn't known about Jet's plan. I end up burying it inside of myself, knowing that I still didn't understand what had happened between us and I wasn't ready to deal with it. After a few moments, she rises and leaves to head over to the archery pitch. It wasn't long before I was joined by the boy from Ten. I saw him coming and watched him carefully, screwing up my snare to do it. Luckily, he had the sense not to come up behind me. I didn't like that he wanted to be close to me, but I let him sit anyway.

As tense as I was, I can't forget my manners. It would also be very rude to strike up conversation with one tribute and not another. Besides, my mother had once told me _'You can be whatever you want in life, but you must never be rude.'_ I tried to live by that, but I found rudeness addicting. "Maverick," I greet him, carefully raising a hand as he sat on the stool next to mine. "You're looking better out of those hideous coveralls. Not your look, really. I would have opted for wool and leather, a vest. You'd look good in a vest, but that's just me."

His piggy eyes, for once, were focused on the knot he started learning from the instructor. He had some skill with loops, but knots themselves seemed more difficult than the construct of the snare I was working on. He had given a grunt at my comment, but offered no return response.

Still, I chat happily with the silent lump of meat. I try asking questions about him, but they were left unanswered. I try to tell him a joke, but there is no indication he heard. So I resort to silence as well, glancing up curiously every now and then. He had seemed so revolting, the way he looked at me last night.

The longer I sit there, the more aware of the feeling of tension between us. I stand and ready myself to leave, and I think of something to say something in parting, but when he sees me waiting, he stands as well, towering over me. It is the look in his eye that makes me jump back. It is the look of a predator, like I am something to catch, to hold down, to break...

I can't think, and before I know what's happening, my body is in motion. I have to get away, and nothing else matters. I leave quickly, glancing over my shoulder as I jog off.

He watches me flee from him, his eyes filled with rage and excitement, but he sits back down, perfectly still except his hands.

I cry softly as I ran into a body and fall backwards, scrambling away into a mace stand. I am focusing on slowing my breathing when Jet sticks out his hand to help me up. Trembling, I take his hand and push myself to my feet. I take a few stable breaths and wipe at my sweaty face. "Stay away from Bos," I say quietly. "That one scares me more than anyone here. He's not right, Jet. Not right in the head."

"Calm down Nara, he's just bigger than you." Jet holds my shoulders tightly as he looks over to the snares section. Bos is still working, oblivious to the world. "Look, you're making yourself look bad. Bo probably just saw you as a pretty girl and wanted to sit near you. He's real thick in the head and, most likely, didn't know what to say. He's going to be intimidating." He didn't lower his voice and the nearby tributes are glancing up from their projects to watch him chastise me.

I glare at him, wanting to lose my mind and scream at him. Instead I step aside, jerk his arm off my shoulder, and shove him back. The force sent him reeling, and I see the shock on his face as he catches himself. I had the sense to lower my voice, but the closest ones still heard. "You didn't see the way he looked at me, Jet. I'm nothing more than fresh meat to him, and you just had to make me look oh so tempting last night."

Jet's calm had been touched and I see ripples of emotions cross his face. Guilt, shame, and anger. "He won't touch you," he exclaims, as if he didn't care either way. "It's against the rules for us to fight."

"And in the Arena, Jet?" I ask, stepping a little closer, looking at a little girl with long blonde hair who was staring at me with large blue-grey eyes. Her name was Mallow, the girl from Twelve. "What happens when there isn't anyone to stop him?"

Jet laughs, patting my head. His mask is back in place. "Then I guess we'll hear your cannon one night!"

Helpless and exasperated, I look around the room, finding Sid watching us. I slowly make my way over to him, sizing him up. "I have a request, and it's... well, it's not traditional."

Sid's dark eyes search mine, then look to Jet. "What happened over there? You looked half-mad. The Gamekeepers are going to think you're unstable."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms. "The boy from District Ten looked like he wanted to hunt me down and eat me. I lost my head a little. I understand it was a tactic to scare me, and it damn well worked. Now I need to calm down and train at the same time; think of it as damage control. Will you dance with me?"

That shocks him, and I relish the expression, sure I'll never see it again. It makes him look years younger than his wrinkled and stern face has hinted. I guess he has to be around thirty, even though he appeared older. "Dance? What kind of training is that?"

I bite my lip, smiling. "Well, see... I noticed how well you and Jade moved on the train. Like you were one person, of one mind, and could tell each other's steps. Dance could help me learn to do that, couldn't it? Lighten my step and help my swordplay."

I watched him think it over ever so patiently and am rewarded with an offered hand. It had been a long time since I had danced with anyone, maybe my father at a party? People don't dance often anymore. People who work have no time for frivolous things like fun.

Sid is a natural teacher, and at his instruction we start from the feet and work our way up to body language. He comes up with complicated patterns to dance in and I have to find footsteps to both keep up and still look graceful.

I am miserable at it. I am so focused on trying to avoid his feet, my feet slip or I stumble. We take a break after a few turns and he steps back. "Your problem is moving with someone," he says, frowning. "You're so naturally repelled by people that you do anything you can to get away from them. You need to learn to move _with_ me. Feel my body move, anticipate where I will turn and in which direction. Again."

Our second attempt is better, although I do step on his feet once or twice. We start arm's length from each other and every so often he closes the gap between us. It isn't very much longer before he stops and instructs me to go get four knives. When I bring them back, he takes two of them.

If we hadn't attracted enough attention with our dancing, which I'm sure fanned the rumor that I was a talentless thing and only focused on unimportant skills, people were sure paying attention now.

"Focus now on my arms, on my body, and on my feet. We will not actually injure, but I will poke you if you mess up. You will not back away, or move in any direction but towards me. Do you understand?" He is focused now, as if having a weapon back in his hand has woken something inside him.

"Yeah, fine." I hold my blades like he does and we put distance between ourselves. The dance begins, swiftly and without warning. He lunges, swinging his left arm down. Terrified, I step forward and raise my right arm. Our blade touch, but there is no pressure before he moves away to my right.

I concentrate on the advance, twisting away only once. I receive a nice tap on the hand for that, and quickly rectify my mistake. Twenty minutes of circling each other and I start to realize I am still using lessons my father had taught. Things I had taught myself, as well. It isn't unlike hand to hand combat, except I have the appearance of a weapon.

Sid stops when he's pleased with my efforts, handing me his knives. "Now go and find something else before you eat. You understand we won't be working together any more until your private session. I don't want the other tributes getting tipped off."

"I understand," I say, pulling my dress away from my sweaty body. "Thanks. I really needed that. Every time I've ever been able to move like that was pure luck. I've never seen the movement." I leave him to find a quiet place where I focus on our lesson from memory.

Jet is surrounded by a few male tributes, laughing at some joke. He doesn't spare me a glance, so I find myself a spear and pace myself away from the dummy. My first throw is unimpressive, and miss the dummy by three hands. The second is closer, but the force I throw it with is pathetic. After a few tries I get the hang of it, and am hitting various parts of the dummy's body. They are never the parts I am aiming for, but they are so vicious, they look accurate.

When we are called to eat, I am one of the first ones in. I find an empty table and pick at the plate in front of me that is piled with lots of colorful delights. For the most part, I eat alone, until I am joined by Ray, the boy from District Four. As he looked to be part of the Pack, I am cautious, but when he plunked down across from me I give him my attention.

"You really did a number on that dummy," he jokes, trying to warm me up.

"Trust me, if we had been spearing fish, I'd be eating nothing." I want to be rude and ask what he wants, but he's so friendly, I find it hard.

"Well, that may be, but it isn't every day you see a pretty girl who knows where to aim." He licks his lips and looks over to the Pack table where they are watching him. "Look... no one, over there I mean, really wants to approach you. We've agreed you're useful, and you'd be a strong member of our group. Brock made the push to get you, even though Jet is popular with the girls."

I reach for the first thing I could on my plate and take a bite out of it. It turns out to be a butter cake dipped in chocolate, thick and chewy. When I am able to swallow and had sipped some water, I am still not ready to speak. Still, seeing him waiting so patiently forces me to open my mouth. "I don't want to enter into conflict," I say simply, finally lowering my eyes. "If it's me or Jet, then maybe that's something he and I will have to discuss at the Cornucopia. However, if you're asking me to join right now with two female members who hate me, forcing Jet to work on his own... That I can work with."

Ray shakes his head and rakes his copper hair back with his fingers. He has more freckles than Jewel, darker on his paler skin. "Well, that will be taken into consideration. How about we both take a couple of days to think it over?"

I reach for my water again and take a long look at it. "Ray, you live by the ocean, right?"

"Fairly close, aye."

I set the glass between us and motion him to look at it. "Would you say the glass is half empty or half full?"

He squints his brown eyes at the glass, the water, then to me. "It's half full?" he asks, as if he's not sure. "Is the answer important?"

I grin, knowing I've hooked him. "I have an idea. Let's settle this now." I pick up the glass and stand, heading over to the Pack's table. Jet is sitting alone in a corner, and when he sees me making my way over, I can feel the resentment. I focus on the tributes sitting there, then gently set the glass on the table.

Brock looks at the glass in interest, then to the others. Cairn is scowling, but trying to appear pleasant. Amia is haughty and not even bothering to conceal her resentment.

"Ray and I, we're having a disagreement about this glass of water," I say, stepping back. "He thinks it's half full, I think he's wrong. We figured we'd ask other intelligent minds to settle this. Amia, you live near the water too. So, is it half full or half empty?"

Amia looks surprised, but she laughs. "Well, of course it's half full!" she snapped. "You fill glasses, don't you?"

"She's been drinking it," Cairn pointed out. "So she has been draining it. It would have to be half empty, since she has emptied it while drinking." She looks surprised at her own words, disappointed that she had disagreed, as if agreeing with me was something she hoped she never have to do.

"Well, I just thought..." Ray started, looking at the water in the glass. "I mean, it is fresh drinking water. A glass with that much water in it for someone to drink is half full. If it were sea water, I'd say it's half-empty. It depends on what's in the glass!"

I have been grinning slowly at the disagreement, but at that comment I frown. It hadn't occurred to me that fresh water might be difficult to get in a place so close to the sea. "How about looking at it this way..." I say quietly, stepping back up to the table and pushing the glass forward. "This glass is completely full."

Brock grunts. I think it's an encouraging sound. "Air and water, you mean."

"Exactly," I say, placing my hands on the table in front of me. "Two elements, together forming a whole. It's a different perspective that eliminates the problem. I hope that helps with your little issue." I smile to Ray, and give him a thumbs up before returning to my food.

We spend a few more hours in the training room and I waste it on shelter building and camouflage. I'm cleaning up when I see Cairn hanging around. Surprised, but interested, I wave her over.

"That was a clever little trick at the table," she snaps haughtily. "Still... it's smart. You have brains, I'll give you that."

"If you're angry about last night, I understand." I brush my hands off on my already dirty pants and stand, facing her. "I much preferred your dress, though white is not my color. I have friend back home...Well, I'll bet you're her favorite. She's still talking about your dress, that's for sure."

Her frown receded a little, but it's clear she isn't fooled by my sweet words. "I don't trust you, but Brock seems to think you're worth more than Jet."

"I'd have to agree with him," I mutter, moving off slowly to the archery range. She followed. I had hoped to wait, but there were few things you could practice while standing still. We take up targets next to each other and string our bows. I draw my bow back, testing the pull and resistance before gently returning it back to its original position. Examining the fletching to avoid the girl's gaze, I see the feathers are from a vibrant blue bird and have been roughed up a little.

"Care to indulge in why you think you're worth more?" she asks, stringing her bow quickly and drawing an arrow as well. She glances over when I don't answer, totally absorbed in smoothing out the feathers on my arrow, but keeping a careful watch on the movement of her hair, which was shorter than most girls and left hanging about her face. It wiggled when she turned her head.

I carefully nock an arrow, closing one eye and memorizing where I aim for comparison with the hit. I fired at the target and hit just outside the circle. "Jet is a trickster," I say, lowering my bow and looking right at her. It is true enough, and made me remember how he had betrayed me in the chariot. "He makes you think one thing, then when your guard is down, he brutally informs you there must have been some mistake." I huff and string another arrow, ignoring that she hit fairly close to the middle of her target. "I may be many things, but a flaw I have is being brutally honest. If I say I'll kill you, I mean it."

"We can't work with both of you. He's already made it clear he doesn't want to work with you." She blew a piece of mousy brown hair out of her eyes before sending another arrow close to the first.

I laugh, startling her. "Oh, that's because I told him on the train, if it came down to it, I'd slit his throat for the cameras while he slept," I admit, aiming a little lower and to the right of the mark I last aimed at. There is little improvement. "Of course, when we arrived he started acting and pulling me along with him... What can I say? The guy is bigger and stronger than me. He acts gallant with his kisses and pulling me close to him, which I'm supposed to return as per my mentor's plea for us to work together... but it's just mind tricks. Last night, after we went upstairs... well, I wasn't about to let him get away with using me in front of the whole world!"

Cairn nods, sympathetic and a little impressed by my threat. "It was quite vulgar, and obvious you didn't expect it."

 _I'll bet that's what you said last night,_ I think to myself, notching my last arrow. "Well, by the end of the chariot ride, I saw the resolve to kill me in his eyes. He has made up his mind. We will fight, and one will walk away."

"Keep both eyes open, that's the key," Cairn says, lowering her bow.

Startled, I let my arm jerk forward and lower mine as well. Had she given me advice? Yes, it seemed she had...

"You're... left-handed? Really?" Cairn comments, her eyes only on my hands and the bow. She is surprised, and it then I notice she held a slightly different bow. "Okay, when you pull back, raise your elbow. The way you were aiming made you look like an awkward bird. Make sure your back is doing all the work. Imagine you're in that dress you wore last night. I see now it made you look thinner, was it a corset?"

I follow her instructions to the letter without a word, shifting sideways and holding myself taller. I could feel how improved stance helps my aim and I keep both eyes open as I focus on the target again. Her backhanded compliment is not lost on me. "It was a bodice that my stylist made," I tell her, seeing how it is useless prattle to throw away, focusing on her advice. Both eyes open...

"Now, don't hold your breath. I know you want to, it is instinct, but it can ruin your shot. You'll want to breathe after firing and ruin your stature. Take a breath before you fire... and let it out, slowly. In concordance, you'll want to hold your position as well, don't drop your arms until after the arrow has hit. It reduces the amount of spin you'll want to put on the arrow and guarantee a cleaner shot." She says this all rapidly, but methodically, as if she has been taking lessons her whole life. The part that irritates me is the superior way she inserts insults into her instructions, but I push past it and focus on one thing.

To my amazement, I hit the target just outside the bulls-eye. I throw my fist up in the air and look at Cairn excitedly. "That's amazing! How did you learn all this?"

"I just read a book once," Cairn mutters, her face going red. "Look, I'm not here to make friends or be all chummy. I just want to know what you can offer me that Jet can't?"

I know offering her words will do no good. Promises mean nothing in the Arena. The only thing of value is either strength or wit. So I put down my bow and motion her to follow me back to the camouflage station. I find an empty jar and start putting some large rocks in it. Cairn watches me critically, and when I turn around, she rolls her eyes. "It's not for you," I assure her. "Tell me, my other lesson aside and if you don't count the air, is this jar full?"

She's hesitant to answer, fearing another trick, but after examining the jar she nods. "It's pretty full, sure."

I look at the jar, then search around until I find a pile of gravel. Handful after handful I scoop them into the jar until it fills the spaces, shaking it to make sure it filled in every gap. Again, I hold it up. "How about now?"

Sheepishly, she nods. "It's fuller." She follows as I move further back in the station to where they had set up a fake riverside area for fishing tips and fire building.

I scoop sand in the same fashion and hold up the jar for the last time, offering it out to her. "Now, Cairn... is that jar full?"

She turns it in her hands and I can see the gears turning. She's smart enough to get it, but I think she needed one more push before she'd get the meaning behind our time together. "Yeah, I mean, it has to be full now! There isn't possibly anything that could fit between the sand!"

Perfect. Unknowingly, she stumbled into a trap she didn't know was set. She couldn't be this easy, surely she had heard this story! Didn't her parents tell her stories? Regardless, I knew I was in, Jet or no Jet. "Pour water into it," I say, motioning towards the water's edge, enjoying the simple words. "Only then will it be full."

It took a moment, but Cairn finally moved towards the river. Ever so carefully she lowered the jar into the water until it went under. Some of the sand sifted out, but when she brought it back up the water didn't soak in. "Where do you get these... ideas?" she asks.

I hate the sad smile I give her, but it comes unbidden. "My father was a wise man. He taught me to think in different ways."

She nods, but I don't think she hears me over her own thoughts. "Look, I'm not saying you have to train with us or anything, and I don't speak for the group... but, I'm okay with you joining us. Every so often. This isn't an acceptance or anything."

I laugh and smile at her kindly. I can see what kind of girl she is. She was the kind of girl who was taught to be strong, she is taught to think strategically. She didn't have a father and mother who told her bedtime stories. They told her nightmare stories and forced her to be brave. She's not above killing me if I'm useless to her, which I know I'm not. "I'll see you if you want to see me, then? Well, thanks for the archery lesson."

"And yours," she says, lifting the jar.

When I turn around, I blush, seeing Brock standing just behind us. Cairn had obviously seen him come up behind me and didn't let on. I wave and walk off towards the door, wondering if Brock was working with his partner now because he wanted to, or if he had a strategy of his own. He has an obvious dislike of her, and that was useful to our alliance. Had he only starting watching me because I riled up this girl? I wanted to know what he knew about her. I want to know what he thinks of me more.

I can't help but think, as I'm standing in the elevator, that perhaps what I had done was dangerous. Perhaps showing her the smallest amount of my wit had given her too much of look at the way I operate. However, if she keeps me for my mind, I have a good chance of sticking around for a long while.

Luckily, I look like I'm poor with weapons so far, even though I know I'm not. I am poor at archery, however. I made one good shot with the bow under rigorous concentration, who knew when I'd be able to do that again? I wouldn't be able to do it running for my life, that was for sure. This disappoints me, but I had wanted to spend time at the archery range tomorrow before the private sessions to improve quickly. Jewel looked like she had some skill, maybe she'd help me. But what could I trade?

"Getting close to the Pack?" Jet snarls when I walk into the sitting room.

I jump and step back, raising my left arm in front of me, fist clenched as if it would protect me. I frown and walk around him, relaxing. "Hasn't anyone ever warn you against bothering a troubled tribute?"

"I saw you talking to them," he says stubbornly, following.

"They can't decide if they want you or me, since they can't have us both," I filled him in carelessly as I hang up my jacket. Either he was going to work with me or not, but facts were facts. Flopping on the couch and relaxing, I blink sleepily at him. "And what about you, wonder boy? I hear you've impressed the boys with your fancy weapons, and the girls with your dazzling dark dreaminess."

"They asked you to join them, didn't they?" he asks angrily, ignoring my comment. "That fish boy said he'd talk to you later, but he was mum on what about."

" _Ray_ ," I said pointedly, stressing his name, "stopped by to have an intellectual conversation with me about strategy and water glasses."

"I saw... what was that about?"

"Oh, just the normal half full or half empty question," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "Stupid, I know, but it caught their attention and gave me information. I like to do silly things to learn, it makes it look like I'm stupid until the lesson is over. It also takes the boring and tediousness out of teaching, and gives me a chance to gather information."

Jet looks confused. "What did you learn?"

I prop myself up and look at him sleepily. "If you present an either or, people pick one or the other. I taught them that just because there are two options are presented doesn't mean there's only two choices. Sometimes, the third option, the invisible one in the back, would be best."

Jet thinks about it, then scowls. "They did ask you to join the Pack."

I sigh and drop my head. "They didn't offer, I didn't accept! They'd like to get their claws on us both, but we're all in agreement that it's non-negotiable. I told them if it's one or the other, we'd settle that in the Arena." That much I could give him, but no more, though he pressed me to tell.

It left him in a foul mood when Jade came to take him. What they went to do was beyond me. To speak of his future, maybe develop a plan. I didn't care, I was left with Sid and that was more concerning. "The Pack wants both of us to join," I say as he sits in Jet's vacated seat. "We're not working together still, I haven't been able to change his mind, and he's just as stubborn as I am!"

Sid sat quietly, thinking. His dark eyes dart from left to right, then back again to the left. It is like he had a debate going in his mind that only he could hear. "If you two truly cannot work together. One of you will end up joining the Pack; it's suicide not to."

I know all of this, and I nod patiently. "Exactly, I've been saying that all along. I understand Jet well enough to understand why he doesn't want to go through this together. I know, if we worked together, eventually there will be a situation and it's him or me. We can hope that it'll be someone else, but we both... know. It's like that, in the games. District tributes work together, it happens all the time. And, not every year, but a lot of the years I've watched... Well, one of them kills the other for one reason or another. It's difficult to go through that, to kill someone who saved your life maybe... or someone who you might love, if it weren't this way. And I've seen them do it."

Sid's face has been wiped of any emotion, and he is frowning at me. It's like he's bored. I know better. "It changes people, that's certain. Yet, when it is life or death, fight or flight... then it'll be your time to choose. Now it's your time to plan. You get so very little of it. Every second drags now, but when you're in the Arena, you'll wish you had fresh fruit, or a glass of water, or just ten minutes to form a new plan. The things you take for granted now, put them to use. You can bet Jade is in there, right now, telling Jet the same thing. I know some of the mentors, not well, but our paths do cross from time to time. Victors tend to know reputations, at the very least. Even if a tribute's head is full of straw, if they remember the right instructions, they could be very deadly."

"Did you join the Pack?" I ask suddenly. "Did you join, or did you go it alone?"

"I was in the Pack for a total of three hours before I killed them all," Sid said, in a low voice. "The weakest tributes got cut down in the bloodbath, but eight long nights later they had thinned the herd. By time I joined the Pack, there were only three of them left and they needed direction."

 _Helped them to their graves, more like,_ I think. He must have hunted the rest of the tributes down, one by one. That must be why he looked so tired and old. He'd seen a lot and it had changed him. Everyone changes... "I'd rather get that over with quickly. In fact... the sooner the Pack is dead, the sooner the fun starts. Pity though... Brock seems like a cold wall of steel, but he's not. I can feel it. He does have a sharp eye though, and he's clever."

"Sounds like trouble," Sid agrees.

"He was the first one to talk to me though, and he argued for me instead of Jet. I know I don't want to be the one to kill him, even if I could..." I sigh and hang my head. "I don't really want to kill anyone… I know I will though."

"Every tribute is different, every Games is different," Sid explained. "Victors have won without killing before, but mostly they starved slower."

"Food won't be an issue," I say quickly, almost happy. "Water might be a problem, depending, but I don't eat a lot. Half on purpose, half accidental habit." I explain to him how when I was a child I began to eat very little portions, to see how kids in other districts ate. It became an obsession to eat less and less, or not at all, or at certain times. It consumed my life for years before my parents' deaths. "After they died, I've always eaten when I wake, and before I go to sleep. I eat as well as I can afford to on the tessare, and the slim amount I allow to go for food out of my check. You know, to take care of their daughter for them."

"You work?" Sid asks. "Doing what?"

I want to say _Nothing anymore,_ but I know better. "I am a jeweler's apprentice. I started sweeping up the place and keeping everything organized; now I'm allowed to fetch things, design my own jewelry and do pretty much everything, but make anything." I leave out a few details, like it being Chiara's father's shop. "I made enough to live comfortably, without any comfort."

"So you have a good eye, and an attention to detail. That's useful and will save your life if used correctly."

I can tell there is more he wanted to say, but I am exhausted. Knowing I have another bright day of the same thing waiting for me, I excuse myself. "Wake me for dinner, I'll get up," I promise through a yawn.

I wake in my bed a couple hours later to a knock and a dinner call. When I opened the door, Jet is standing there in loose silk pajamas. I raise an eyebrow and rub at my eyes. "Is there a sleepover party I wasn't invited to?" I ask.

"They're comfortable, and I deserve one night to feel like a champion," he responds tersely, turning his back on me.

I follow him to the eating area and take the chair next to him, as Ollie, Jade and Sid have already claimed one ends of the table. We chew quietly, never saying more than a few words. For once, I eat more than I have in the past few days. There were nutty soups (chestnut and almond) I tried, several cooked fowl of varying types, but the centerpiece was a beautifully roasted swan, stuffed with bread, greens and carrots.

"Wow, they're really going overboard with the food, aren't they?" I ask, picking at the greasy duck in front of me.

"What do you mean, my dear?" Kingfevin asks, picking up a carving knife and standing over the bird. "Do our tastes here offend?"

I laugh and shake my head. He is absurd, but he was so ignorant of it, I can't even find the proper words for a moment. "Well... I don't know if you've noticed Ollie, but I typically don't eat very much. Jet eats more than me, but he's an active man. I mean, the next thing I know you're going to bring in a roast pig!"

Kingfevin frowned, concerned. "Well, I can tell them not to bring it..."

"What she's trying to say, ever so politely," Jet said, smiling calmly at the man, "is that the food is too rich and looking at it somehow makes her sick."

Clever way of putting it, and I nod. "I look at food and it fills me up sometimes. Or smelling it. I don't actually eat a lot." That was actually true, part of my fasting as a child that I never got over. Helpful, all these years later, I had to admit. "In fact, I think I'm done. Finish without me."

I wander to the sitting room and lay on the cool couch, staring out the window at the darkening sky. It was really beautiful here in the Capitol, and I understood why the people here lived the way they did. They didn't have a care about outside, and the sufferings of others didn't matter because they were rich enough not to care. They ate and partied and mutilated themselves to make themselves more and more beautiful. In a strange way, it worked. If it weren't for the Hunger Games, the Capitol might even be a place a victor would strive to stay in.

"Do you feel well?" Jet asks softly, leaning over the couch.

"Well enough," I answer, moving my legs. "You can sit if you want."

He does, resting his arm on the curve of my legs. "Sid may be content to keep us apart, but Jade thinks we need to spend time together, even if we're not working together."

I adjust my head to rest on my hand and look at him. "How?"

Jet is quiet, the dark room throwing strange shadows across his face. "I'm not sure."

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Isn't it obvious to you yet?"

He looks at me hard. "You have a plan then?"

"I've had a plan since the train. Several. Some of them included you, some of them saw you dead, but one of them... If one works the Pack in one direction and the other works the rest in the other direction, it'll break the mechanism holding it together." I watch as he processes what I've said, smirking smugly. Of course, that didn't include the circles I'd be running around other people.

"So you're saying one of us should join the pack, and the other-"

I sit up and smooth my dress under me. "No, what I'm saying is we should both join the Pack."

Jet shakes his head. "I don't understand."

I pull his arm around my shoulders and lean my head close to his. "Look, I'm not saying you have to pretend you love me. You don't have to protect me, you don't have to kiss me, and you don't have to even touch me. I'm saying we need to at least be civil." I look him in the eye, stern and resolved. "We make them think we're on their side, then at the Cornucopia or after we've had time to arm ourselves. We could strike and drive them apart."

Jet's arm tensed around me and he slowly withdrew it, leaning back. He crosses his arms and stares directly ahead of him. "Of course, if that doesn't work, we could be driven off and hunted."

"It is dangerous," I agree, moving away. "However, if done carefully... one of us could break off and the other could stay."

"I'd rather be the one to leave," Jet says quickly. "If it comes to that, anyway. I like the idea of us working together, I just can't bring myself to do it. If we met somewhere in the arena and had to kill each other, that's one thing..."

"Do what you like, Jet," I sigh wearily. "I'm tired of fighting before the real fighting begins. If you want to get away from me, do it. At least promise you'll help kill people out there. Me, if it comes to it, but kill others too."

"I'll take my share," he said simply. "The ones I have to kill will be the ones that get in my way."

"Right, then I'll talk to you the in the morning." I stand and stretch, yawning. "Sleep well, Jet." I leave him alone in the dark room, but I can feel him watching me as I walk to my room. When I reach my door, I look back and he's still staring. In that moment, I wonder how he sees me. I'd seen him with groups of girls, but never heard of him dating... everyone just assumed he didn't want to settle down and commit to a girl. Then again, my knowledge of his personal life was limited. It wasn't like I had been interested anyway. Pushing the thought away, I close the door behind me.

I woke out of a dead sleep that night when a dark shadow crept in and lay in my bed on top of the blankets. Rolling over, I see Jet's back not far from me. The beds were big enough to share and then some, but I had never expected him to come in! I was on the verge of yelling at him when he rolls onto his back and looks at me.

Tentatively, I wrap an arm around him and hold his body. He tenses slightly for a moment, then melts into complete relaxation, sighing softly and nuzzling the pillow he'd brought. I understood the need for contact, remembering the previous night alone. I get him to climb under the covers and we hold each other tightly.

He hides his face in my hair, whispering apologies, telling me he just needed to be held. I see he needs someone because he's never had anyone before, and I understand. His father had never wanted him and he was replaced by his younger brother in his mother's eyes, far outshined by his siblings. He's breaking bit by bit, and the pressure is wearing at him.

I tell him softly he can stay, and close my eyes again.

He never touches me inappropriately, or even tries to get under my dress. It's only when he's asleep, lying half on me with my hand clutched in his, I realize how similar we were in personality. Even though our backgrounds were different, we still have a lot of anger and hidden emotions. We both were resistant types, turning into ourselves because there's nowhere left to go.

I can't turn him away, because I need the contact as much as he does. I hold him as his head rises on my chest with every breath. The feel of strong arms around me, soft breaths that aren't mine, and the hint of fragrance that clings to Jet lull me to sleep. This would be a one-time thing that we both needed, that would save us from ripping each other apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually not sure of they're allowed to sleep on the same room, but I needed it for the story. Jet and Chose are complicated characters, and very different than the people they're based off of. The way I wrote them, I wanted the differences to be obvious to people who know us... Then realized those people would never read my writing, so... I thought I'd state that.


	8. Lessons Learned

We sleep until my Avox comes in. I wake and stare at Jet's face, his eyes still closed. When he sleeps, all the anger, bitterness, and resentment is gone and he almost looks boyish. "Wake up..." I whisper as the girl moves about the room setting out the clothes she's been instructed to bring me. I touch his face and am startled when he snaps awake and grabs my hand painfully. I whimper, looking to the girl who looks alarmed and starts for the door. "Stop!" I call. "It's okay! He just has nightmares." I don't know if this is true as we both sleep so still, but it's an excuse at least.

The girl slows and looks at us apprehensively, her hand on the doorknob. We've thrown the blankets back and are scrambling out of the bed, motioning for her to stay. When she sees we're fully clothed, she purses her lips and looks at us both sternly, but leaves without a word.

"It's okay, she won't tell anyone," Jet said, running his hands through his hair. "They don't talk. Jade told me they've had their tongues removed."

Horrified and worried, I rush him out of the room. "Last night was much needed, Jet," I say firmly, keeping my door open only an inch. I can't look at him and say it. If I saw him, my voice would lose its edge. "Don't come into my room again, or I will let Sid know."

He turns and walks off, making no promises or even an indication he heard me. I know he'll be back because he doesn't care. Getting into trouble is pointless when you are going to be dead soon; and when you not only want something, but you need it. Once you've found a source, you don't abandon it. You hold on for dear life.

Locking the door, I strip out of my clothes, shower and change. The outfit today was exactly the same as the last, only the leggings are emerald, the underdress is white, and the top dress is a pale pink. I find my coat still hanging in the sitting room and put it on, seeking out my first cup of coffee for the morning.

Jet avoided me until we had been training for an hour. I had filled the time carefully avoiding the careers, talking with a few tributes from the lower districts. I took a special interest in Cherry, the girl from Eleven who sought me out while I was learning to build a fire.

I called her Sakura in my mind and we struck up easy conversation. She told me she liked my coat, which I was still wearing, and I thanked her. I asked her about home and she told me she liked her District, and missed her family. They didn't eat very much, despite the fact they had the largest orchards in Panem. She told me her job was to run messages, clean the barns and storage areas, and every so often she worked in the orchards. It sounded like a happy life, or at least one she was content with, but it was sad.

After I got my fire lit, I found myself asking her to teach me to climb the fake trees that were spread out. I couldn't have picked a better person to ask, it turns out. She's lithe and agile, but she seems to have magic in her hands. Wherever she reached never broke and she never slips. I had fallen quite a few times before I ditched my boots and went at it barefoot. With the use of my toes, my grip improves and Cherry helped me find the easiest of handholds.

"It's important to keep most of your weight off your feet," she said, watching me. "You're slipping a lot because you keep your weight on your feet. If you keep the weight in your hands, your feet won't slip."

I try it her way, and though my arms are aching by time I reach her perch, I am rewarded with a bottle of water and soft praise. I know I would never be able to climb as well or quick as her, but if I had to scale a tree, I was sure I could at least get to a decent height before I fell and killed myself.

I also found out getting down was just as hard and struggled before I fell halfway down. I grabbed at branches as I bounced towards the ground, and managed to snag one of the thicker, lower limbs. From there I dropped out of the tree and onto stable ground. Tree climbing was not for me, but if it saved my life... I'd need this experience.

We part after that, but before she leaves she points at my coat. "Those are cherry blossoms," she said with a smile.

I nod, touching the fabric subconsciously. "They're my mother's favorite," I tell her.

Cairn finds me at the targets again as I tried throwing knives. She's just as poor as I am, and we converse stiffly. She finally gets around to her point, and I this time I expect it.

"Have you thought about joining?" she asks, peeking at me curiously. "Brock has made it clear if you're not with us, he's allying with you."

This surprises me. I hadn't expected to have such a firm ally so quickly. I have to word my replies carefully, as not to raise suspicion. "Well, I tried to get Jet to reconsider. He's still being stubborn, but he did mention that perhaps, if didn't have to be around me, he would join the Pack. He might have been baiting me, or he might have been serious."

She looks over to the archery range where Jet is practicing.

He's doing quite well, and seems to be enjoying himself with the boy from Nine, Rye Pliny. They're talking openly and laughing, playfully shoving each other over a shot Rye had made. "He would be an asset, as a strong male. We've asked a couple others to join, but we haven't gotten a definite answer from anyone yet."

I don't ask who she's thinking of, I don't want to know. The less I pull out of her, the more she'll trust me. I'd had people spill their secrets to me by staying quiet my whole life. "Well, I don't mind working around him, I mean... he's easy on the eyes. Rye looks alright too, but looks don't save you in the arena for long. Yet, you have to admit, most of the male tributes this year either look like monsters or little boys. Jet... he's a man."

Cairn giggles and agrees. It's the first time I enjoy her company, and note her laughter makes her sound younger than she is. "That is what the girls are saying."

"He's too vicious for my tastes though," I say, returning my gaze to my target. "Not physically, but he knows how to play emotional games. He'll sweet talk a girl and then shove a spear through her. He uses appeal as a weapon."

"I won't be tricked," Cairn snaps, arrogantly tossing her hair, still staring at Jet. "I just want to play with him."

I flung my last knife, wincing as it hit the outside ring. If they were slimmer, or needles... that might work. "I have to go..." I mutter, then walk off to the chopping section where the Lumberjack twins were. It looked like they hadn't left this area in the past two days. I found them chopping logs into halves and quarters, giggling to themselves, often breaking out into loud and repetitious songs as they alternated hits with their hatchets.

I pick up a small hatchet for chopping wood and slowly approach them. They see me and stop their work, and their song, so abruptly and synchronized, I stop short and move slightly back. I smile a little and wave. "I just needed a bit of wood. I was wondering if I could borrow a wedge to chop my own."

They look confused, but the girl motions me to come over. They've built a small hutch shelter and spent time camouflaging it with moss, grass and dirt. They had obviously learned how to set fires and had a very small one burning merrily. I had interrupted what looked like pikes for a trap.

I'm apprehensive, but I walk up slowly. The girl has sleek white hair that ruffles as she whips her head around, jumps up and bobs around the bespeckled boy. She's taller than me by an inch, but her arms are thicker than mine, her chest broader, even though I can tell the first proper meal she's ever had was on the train. "Can I borrow your wedge?" I ask again, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. She made me feel like a twig. One snap, and it was over.

"What is a wedge?" the boy asks, his eyebrows knitting together, itching his thick brown hair.

"It's a tool," the girl snaps, looking at him as if he was stupid. "We don't use wedges. We're strong enough to not need them. What do you need the wood for?"

I figure telling them can't hurt anything, so I explain how I want to make throwing needles out of wood. I get a half log out of the deal, but they make me work away from them. I'm grateful, but my thanks fall on deaf ears, so I move off and begin chopping up the wood. I almost lose fingers several times, but manage to get a dozen good sized slivers. I dull three knives shaping and sharpening, but when the lunch call comes, I abandon them at once. I had half-forgotten about hunger in my work and concentration. I had been pouring every thought into training, I forgot about food, the careers, Jet, and even Chiara. I hadn't eaten anything with my coffee this morning and my stomach was protesting loudly.

As I sit alone in the corner, peeling a miniature orange, I smile to myself remembering the time Chiara and I had shared oranges like these under the tree in the park. Every sharp, acidic bite of the orange is delicious in my mouth, and a particular memory so sweet... I eat the whole thing with my eyes closed, my head resting against the wall. Every so often I spit a seed out, then return to the juicy fruit. It isn't until I hear someone clear their throat that my eyes snap open.

Jet is sitting across from me, and appears to have been there for some time. He motions to the sticky seeds that coat the table and raises his eyebrows. "Have you completely lost it? You look disgusting over here."

I pick up a bit of peel and throw it in his face. "No," I say calmly. "Not here, not now. You will not ruin such a precious moment."

He let the peel hit him and watches it drop to the table. His eyes are intense when he glares up at me. "Look, while you're daydreaming over here, the Pack is circling. They want an answer and they want it today. Tomorrow a plan will be worked out, and if we're not in, we're on our own."

"I say do it," I insist. "Look, it's our best chance to at least get supplies, weapons, time to breathe, time to think, food and water. I want in. This "we" thing isn't an issue. If you can play nice, I'm sure they'll be willing to take you. If you can't possibly, for whatever reason, trust me long enough to get you to the Cornucopia, then you're on your own, Jet. Remember what Sid said the most important thing to remember was?"

"When you're in the arena, you're on your own."

"Trust no one," I finish for him, our eyes locked. "I can give you one safe day or two even, just for joining with me. I can give you a week, if you can find something to trade in return."

Jet looks revolted, and he stood. "Tell them I'm in, but you can take your safe days and burn them." He had raised his voice and tributes were beginning to notice.

"Look buddy," I exclaim, slamming my hand down on the table. "You don't get things for free in the Arena! Nothing is handed to you in the Capitol, and there's no such thing as a free banquet! Someone is paying for all of this! You're paying for it, I'm paying for it, every tribute in here is paying for this food, the clothes, the game! That's what tribute is, payment. Only one person wins, Jet, and I'm not going to be the one giving handouts. Those people end up dead..."

"You're sick," he spits venomously. "I'll follow your advice and join up, but I don't need safe days. Any time you want to try and kill me, you just let me know. I'll be waiting!"

After he leaves, I don't have to move. Cairn came to me. She is thrilled when I tell her Jet had come around, rather rudely, but he would be happy to lend a hand. I swear I will keep away from him to prevent further headaches and arguments, promising to help her out with anything she needed. It isn't hard to see she was setting herself up as Pack leader, and if I wanted to lay low, I'd have to bow and scrape with the rest of them.

When I return to the area I had left my wooden needles, I find them gone. My tools were still there, and half the log that remained, but the shavings were scuffled about. All trace of footprints were gone, smoothed over and mussed with a tree branch. Dismayed, I looked up, looking to every tribute. The Lumber twins were painting each other with mud, Jet wasn't anywhere near... in fact, no one seemed to be around. Whoever had taken them could have them, I think bitterly as I kneel and chipped away at the quarter log I was still lucky enough to have.

Ten minutes later I had my wedge, and a second, tucked away. I slowly approached the twins again, holding my hands up. "Can we negotiate?" I ask.

"What do you want?" she growls. Her bright blue eyes are afraid, distrustful. The boy crouches close to her leg, watching me as if I am a strange bug.

"Those needles I was talking about," I remind her. She nods, curiosity seeping out slowly. "I made them, but someone stole them. I just want to work out some of the frustration on those logs over there. I know you don't want me around, I just thought... maybe if I chopped some for you, I could use your chopping block."

She looks around the room, examining everyone like I had. "We didn't see anyone over there, and we cut out of lunch early. If they're really gone, and you want to chop some wood, it's over there. You bring it here, then leave, got it?"

I take the wedge from my jacket and bounce over to the block. While the tool did help, it was still thirty minutes before I had what I needed and wood chopped for District Seven. As I sit next to the pile and drink some water, I wipe my brow and gaze around the area. They sure knew how to make such an unpleasant place look almost like a home. My back and shoulders ache when I stand, but I wave to the girl and start to gather the wood for them. I'm joined by the boy, who has the same bright blue eyes as the girl, millions of freckles and the oddest round glasses. He scoops up an armful of wood and walks with me back to their hutch.

"How did you chop so fast?" the boy asks suddenly. He blushes, looking fearfully at the girl, but when she looked at me as well, I show them the wedges I had made. When I offered to let them keep one, the girl started to protest.

"Keep it, I made it for you anyway," I tell them.

The boy clutches at it and whines. "Yew... let me keep it! You know I can't keep up with you splitting wood! Now we'll get twice as much done."

"Hush Cy, I'm thinking." Her slim brows knit together and she looks me over. "He can keep it. I'll find those needles for you. Fair trade?"

Astonished, I tried to explain I didn't need them, but she left me talking after her. "Well... I guess there is no telling her..." I murmur.

"There really isn't, but she's nice," the boy says, looking over the wedge. "You better clear out though, she has a temper."

I nod and leave this side of the room, tucking my wedge in my boot. I don't know what to do next, or where to go, or who to talk to. I just want to find something to do to avoid talking. I find the eatable plants station and think it would be useful. Sauntering over, I spend the next twenty minutes listening carefully about which plants I could eat, and focusing on plants that were poisonous. I studied them, memorizing every detail of its shape and coloring, even the smell. There was a chance there would be no plants at all, or even plants that appeared harmless being lethal. It depended on the mood of the Gamekeepers if we would get anything at all.

I was sorting the plants, asking questions about symptoms and antidotes when I felt someone lean over my shoulder.

"You'll want to do swords next."

For once, I don't turn, I just nod. A few minutes later I thank the knowledgeable trainer and head over to the blade rack. I had meant to avoid this place, until now anyway. I was balancing out a short sword with my hand, trying to find the right blade when I felt watched. Looking over my shoulder, I find the boy from Nine watching me. _Rye,_ I remind myself. _His name is Rye._

"You know a bit about blades?" he asks. "I'm going to bet you know quite a bit if you're waiting to hold one this late in the day." He's wearing the traditional tight black shirt with short sleeves, black pants, black boots, but his stylist added a cape-like scarf for him to wear. It wrapped around his neck, pinned on the side with the ends hanging over his shoulder. The lavender is pretty with his hair, and adds a tint to his blue eyes making them look purple.

"My father won the Hunger Games with nothing but a sword, a knife, and a bow," I tell him quietly. "He told me knowing how to use a sword was essential to living. Not only the body is trained and honed, but the mind as well." I find a nicely weighted sword and flip it into the air, catching it and giving it a few swings.

He has a short sword already, and he watches me as we face our trainers, who step up with practice swords. Both our trainers start us off slowly, but finding us proficient, use us and the other group, to steer us in different directions, wheel us about and finally put me on the defense. I have no time to pay attention to the boy, whose huffs and puffs are evident, but I can tell he's still trying to attack.

I hold off my trainer, watching for an opening. I use the dance lessons I learned from Sid to stay on my toes, advancing on the girl even though I blocked her blows, paying attention to my surroundings and what was going on. Practice patience, move with your partner, and trust no one. Sensing someone behind me, I duck and roll past my trainer, sliding around to see Rye's trainer had set us up to run into each other.

The two trainers moved together against him, blocking his blows and in time, wearing him down to exhaustion. They leave him sitting on the floor, panting and glaring at me, who stood watching.

"Think that was funny, do ya?" he asks angrily. "Two instructors on one tribute? How is that fair?"

"They're here to teach," I say stubbornly, turning to a dummy and using it to practice my strokes. "They're not opponents, they're instructors. What did you learn?"

He shook his head. "You're not half as skilled as I am with a sword and you know it. You're more graceful than I am, but you're slower. You trust your instincts more than your gut, and you're preoccupied with something right now. A really hard decision... It has to do with your partner, Jet."

I can't tell if he was bluffing, or if he was telling the truth. If he had training with a sword, highly unlikely with him living in the Grains district, he would be able to tell my skill. If he was bluffing and trying to unnerve me, I still had a chip to bargain with. "Look, I don't care how much training you've had with what weapon; a good warrior, a skilled combatant, would have understood this lesson. The easiest way to control an enemy is wearing them down, keep them busy until they are too tired to fight!"

"Don't try and talk down to me, girly," he snarled, shoving himself off the ground. Once righted, he returned his sword with me.

It was evident I didn't intend to leave when I followed him over to the weights area where Brock, Jet and Bos were gathered. I knew they wouldn't dare attack me, and I was free to use any section, so they couldn't tell me to leave. They did look intimidating together though.

"What do you want, Nara?" Jet asked, making it known my presence bored him. "Here to cause another scene?"

"I have business with Pliny here, but it's touching you're so concerned," I toss back, crossing my arms and looking hard at Rye. "You have something of mine. I want it." I was confident Yew wouldn't pick someone at random. She owed me a debt, and if she tricked me, she was as good as a walking target when I did get them back.

Rye's demeanor shifted. He tried to deny he knew what I was talking about, but halfway through his weak lies and the glares of the boys who were now very interested, he broke off. When Jet stepped away from the weights and walked up to hear the conversation, Rye stopped and reached into the back of his shirt and drew out my needles. "I don't understand why you want these little toothpicks," he mutters, thrusting them at me.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," I growl, snatching them. They were wrapped in black cloth and must have been hid somewhere under his scarf. Wherever he had kept the thick bundle, it hadn't been obvious. It made me wonder how Yew had known. "Thank you for their return. I wish I hadn't had to confront you on it, but I will let it go without another word if you just tell me why you stole them."

He shook his head and laughed, slapping his chest a couple times. "See, it's so funny!" he chortled, lowering his voice. "I was sneaking around, practicing being invisible, and mostly hiding from the creepy Death Duo-"

"Death Duo?" I ask weakly, looking to Brock and the others.

"It's what we've taken to calling District Seven," Jet explained. "What have you been calling them?"

I knew they would never understand my label of Lumberjacks, or "the Twins", so I went the snarky approach. "Yew and Cypress? Those are their names. Rye, my throwing needles?"

"Your what?" Jet asks, stepping up beside me and looking into my hand.

"I made them," I say, clutching them tighter. "I spent a lot of time and effort making these, just to use for practice and he stole them." My voice was level, low, and threatening as I tried to keep calm.

"Ah, yes. Well, I saw you working so hard on those needles, for so long. Then the call for food rang out and, like an animal, you dropped everything and went to stuff your face." His tone was accusing, and hateful. It wasn't just aimed at me, it was aimed at Jet and Brock as well. People who ate better than him on their worst day. "I waited until everyone was gone, stole down, and took them. No one saw me do it."

"You know..." I said slowly, "in the Ancient days, they'd take a man's hand for thievery."

His face flushed, but when Jet stepped between us, he crossed his arms.

"But only if they caught them," I add, motioning Jet back. I didn't need him to fight my battles for me. Thankfully, he followed my direction and joined Brock who had come to see what was going on. "I, unfortunately, didn't catch you. I had a little help with that, so you can keep your hand. I just want to know why you took them. They were of no value to you."

"Ah," he said, stepping forward and raising a finger, putting it to his lips and tapping. "It had no value to me, that's true enough. Yet, they had value to someone. Things of value should not be left lying around, even a common street rat knows that lesson. You worked hard on these needles, so hard, then left them scattered for food. Some night, you'll remember this lesson."

I tucked the needles away carefully into my coat. He's goading me, and I refuse to let it bother me. "Well, I'll remember we have a thief in our midst. Thank you for that lesson. I've gotten what I've come for, I'll leave you boys to your... whatever it is you do here."

"Aw come on Nara," Jet said, elbowing Brock in the abdomen gently. "Lift weights with us! It'll be fun!"

I frown and look at the weights, shaking my head. "It doesn't look fun. Besides, you guys can all lift much more than me, there's no contest here." I back away, wave good-bye, and rush off before they can drag me back.

End of training couldn't come soon enough, and I was eager to return to our apartment. I hung my coat up where I had yesterday and hid my wedge in an inside pocket with the needles. I knew it wouldn't be touched, as it had stayed there overnight before. They would come in handy with a little practice, and perhaps I could implement them into my private session.

That thought jars me to my core and I suddenly find it hard to stand. I wobble over to the couch and sit heavily. I had been here only three days, and tomorrow I would have to perform my best, show what I know and hide what I don't. One day closer to execution. Sid and Jade were right. The time really was slipping away from us.

My stomach twists tightly and I curl up, chewing on the inside of my lips as I think carefully about the tributes I had met and talked to, the things they had shown me, and what I had told them. I wonder which tributes have been asked to join the Pack, and how many would be left after the blood bath. Most of the careers make it past the first night. Not always, but it's usually a good bet. I knew one of us wouldn't make it, and exactly which one. I hadn't figured out how, when and where, but the who had been established.

"Can I sit with you?"

The soft voice is a sweet relief and I try to hide my worries as I shrug. He does sit and sticks out his legs, yawning. He doesn't speak for a long time, but when he did, I knew I had never heard this Jet speak.

"My dad is a barber," he starts, looking over at me. "He cuts hair for a living."

"I would have never guessed," I laughed, purposefully mussing his hair. It made him smile a little. I had never been to the area he lived in. In fact, I'd never seen him anywhere outside the park we frequented, and always with Chiara or Emery. I knew his family was wealthy enough to keep a family of five well fed and clothed, but his father's profession had been a mystery.

"I'm kind of glad I got to volunteer," he muses. "Father wanted me to follow in his footsteps, inherit the shop and cut hair. I would rather die in the Hunger Games than die a barber."

"I don't blame you."

Our easy laughter doesn't bother me so much as how we open up. He tells me about growing up and the shop where he got his first job sweeping up the hair after his father finished cutting. He told me how he worked until he was 15, even though he was still going to school.

I listen as his story unfolds, not saying anything, though my eyes follow every move of his hands as he carefully unbraided my hair, flitting up to his face and watching his lips as he speaks. The gold of the sun as it starts to set lights up the room, swathing us in light. "I didn't know," I admit. "If I hadn't met Chiara, I would have never known anything about you. I didn't notice the world around me after my parents died. I went to school, studied hard, came home and helped- well, I had a job too." I feel him watching me, but I can't look. I can't look at him when I'm thinking of her, and knowing how badly I want to get back to her. "But... we're here. So, we have to make the best of it."

"If you don't think about it too hard," Jet murmurs, looking out at the Capitol spread out before us. My hair is finally untangled and is very wavy, but Jet hasn't stopped running his fingers through it. "The person who wins gets a second chance. They get to have the life they want, forgiven for their sins in the Arena, and rewarded. Twenty-three children die every year so that one can live."

I lean against him, resting my head on his arm. I like the way he speaks. He almost sounds like he believes his words. "If that's what it takes to keep the peace and not gum up the mechanics, I'm all for it. I like the idea of it; it shows proper place and consequence." I'm serious though, and he can tell from the way I shift. "I told you earlier Jet... everything has a price. If you really think about it, the ones losing out are the Gamemakers. Twenty-three kids every year that will end up dead, with one victor. They plan all year for each game, the arena, the food, the costumes, the stylists and prep teams, the interviews, the training and judges, plus the escorts and the mentors..."

"Do you have a point in there?" he asks gruffly, rolling his eyes.

"My point is..." I say carefully, looking over our shoulders at the empty room. "Only twenty-three kids die. For all the work they put in, for the money they pour in, for all the extravagance... One boy tribute and one girl tribute is a bit of a light sentence for the Districts. After all, they're going to die one way or another! It doesn't matter if you're a poor kid, or rich. It doesn't matter if you're nobody or a victor's child. Twenty-three children in the whole of Panem keep the rest of them safe."

Jet chuckles at that and wraps an arm around me. "So you're saying..."

I close my eyes. I'm comfortable in his arms and I can feel rest coming. I speak slowly, just under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear. "I'm saying everyone dies, in the arena or outside it. The Hunger Games, when compared to life, is just a room... and the tributes are just people you're forced to die with."

Jet strokes my head and I hear the deep rumble of his laugh in his chest, the thump of his heart. "I hope they pay the Gamemakers well... I'm enjoying myself very much."

I tsk at him, but I don't think he hears me. I have muddled thoughts that wander away when I reach for them. For a moment I feel myself moving, weightless, and then pleasant darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chise's observations on The Hunger Games are my own. I get a lot of insults over it, but I press to find out where she's wrong. I'm not a type of person who believe in "the greater good" or that "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one" (shockingly, opposite theories, but I still don't believe in them as statements).
> 
> If you truly can't stomach the idea of people dying for your survival, acting as a sacrifice for your life, then we really need to have a conversation. I'm not talking about random, mindless slaughter, or whatever is going on in the world right now. That's NOT what I mean... I mean someone dying in a public death game so you don't have to. So you can eat, so you can go about your life... Then I'm about to call you ungrateful.
> 
> I don't respect my government. It's kinda easy not to do, ya know? But if you ever catch me disrespecting the soldiers, the victims of racial discrimination, or anyone fighting and offering their life as tribute to a better cause... Then feel free to try and murder me. I welcome it.
> 
> But please, for a moment, try to consider Chise's perspective, as someone who offered to die. The following chapters are actually more revealing, if you can stomach it.


	9. Dreams of Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Implied rape, force, explicit sex
> 
> I know this scene will not be taken well by some people, and I won't lie... It was difficult to write, but not for the reasons you think. This is kinda something I struggle with, as a writer. Sometimes, we do things we don't feel comfortable with, because they're necessary. But sometimes it's difficult because it's tied to vulnerability.
> 
> I won't explain past that, but it needed to be said.

I dream of a fox that night. It changed color throughout the dream, it also grew tails every time we met. It constantly ran off, leading me across a field, into the mountains, down to a forest that lead to the sea. When I first met him, or I assume it was a him, he looked like a normal red fox with one tail. I followed out of curiosity, wondering if I was really seeing a fox, but after a while he seemed to be leading me, disappearing and reappearing in a different form.

In the mountains he had three tails and a dull blonde pelt, the color muted by dirt and dust, but nevertheless flat. I asked why it had lead me here. He ran at me, his blue eyes wild and I fled, scared for my life. I didn't know if the fox followed, or why I was running from such a small creature, but I didn't stop until I broke the tree line.

I found him again in the forest, trotting up meekly, five reddish-brown tails wagging. I crouched next to him and stroked his muzzle, looking into his grey-black eyes, noting one was darker than the other. I ask him softly why he had attacked me, but the fox only nuzzled my face. A sound to our right startled us, and the fox dashed off. I chased after him, calling until my voice faded. Before long, I could smell salt and I was standing on sand.

The water lapped at my feet and I turned, looking for somewhere to go, anywhere... And the fox found me, pulling me by my jacket with his teeth. I put my hand on his pure black pelt; I didn't have to look to know he had seven tails. I ask where we're going, but the fox only growls, glaring with amber eyes.

I was led across the sand, following the shaggy black form ahead of me through a sandstorm. It seemed to shrink and grow as we walked, but I thought it to be a trick of the sand. Soon, the wind stopped blowing and we stood at the feet of a ruin. The fox fur had changed to a blood-color, he had eight tails, and looked frail and weak. There the fox looked up at me with his black eyes sadly, then vanished. I was lost and alone, and I couldn't help but cry. I didn't know how to get back, I didn't know where to go, and I just wanted to lie down and die.

I wandered in the desert for the longest time, praying for relief, or water. Anything... then a glimmer of gold caught my eye. I raced for it, running for dear life, finding the field once more. There, on a hill sat a gold fox, sitting with his nine tails floating around him. At his feet there lay weapons and dead, faceless bodies. In a rage, I picked up a sword and rushed at it. I scream for the endless time chasing it. For the lack of reason. For not answering my questions. For scaring me. For making me cry and look weak. For leaving me.

Before I can see the outcome, I'm woken to someone crawling under my covers. It's Jet, I realize sleepily. I'm irritated at being woken, but too tired to fight.

"You missed dinner," he whispers.

"How late is it?" I ask, shooting up in bed.

"Late," he assures me, gently pulling me back. "It's dark and quiet out there. Too quiet."

I lay in his arms and listen to him breathe. "Why did no one wake me?" I ask quietly.

"I told them you'd eaten a big lunch and asked not to be disturbed," he said. "They didn't even question it. Sid thinks you're genius. He must anyway, because he's not worried. Everyone chatted so happily at dinner, you'd think they've forgotten we have our private sessions still."

I groan and roll away from him. "Don't remind me. Why'd you come in here and wake me up? I was having a great dream..."

"I just thought... since I'm alone, and you're alone, we could be alone together." He presses his body against my back and rests his head on mine. "I enjoy the time we don't have to pretend we hate each other."

For some reason, I find this funny and giggle. I admit to myself I enjoy it too, though I wasn't pretending to hate him, he just pushed my buttons wrong. "You know you're not supposed to be in here."

"Let them come and take me," he whispers. "Until they get here, I'm not moving... unless you tell me to leave."

I push him back and sit up, looking at him. I can barely see his face in the darkness, but I don't need to see. "So, if I tell you to go back to your room?"

"I'll leave," he states, quietly. It's not explicitly said, but his fingers on my hand speaks his desperation.

"I already told you not to come back to my room," I pointed out.

"Do you want me to leave?"

The question hangs heavy in the air for several minutes, but I shake my head. When I lay back, cuddling with Jet, I realize he's shirtless. I hope he's wearing pants when I squirm an inch away from him. "Please tell me you're not nude," I mutter.

"Of course not," he laughs. "And I won't try anything."

I tsk, and roll my eyes. I still hadn't forgiven him for using me in the chariot, but I hadn't expected him to make a move. "I didn't think you were really interested," I say casually. "It's just a game to you Jet, you don't really care about me."

He's silent for the longest time before he pulls the blanket back and slides out of bed. "It's only a game if you think it's a game," he mutters, looking down on me. "The question I want answered is if it's a game to you. Give me your answer by tomorrow night, or I won't help you at all. That is a promise, Nara."

He left after that, just melted out of the room. I had expected him to be apathetic, not angry. However, it was a smart question. Was it a game to me? The Hunger Games had forced it to be a game. If he and I were in the park, watching Emery running around and with Chiara... The scene flashed through my head unbidden and I watched us chatting happily together, laughing. I held Chiara's hand in my left, fingers linked, and Jet's arm in my right.

I shook my head and opened my eyes to cancel the image. If it weren't for the Hunger Games, we might have been happy. Yet, I had always planned on going. If it had been anyone else's name... anyone but Emery... I would be fighting alongside a boy I didn't care about and I would have never known Jet more than casually.

The only reason I needed Jet was for the Arena. It was the only way he was in my life. That life in the park didn't exist, it was a fantasy. It was what I wanted, for whatever reason. So... what was Jet to me? Not the boy that Chiara had pretended to love. That had never been a concern, just an annoyance as she dragged me along to "accidental" meetings. To me, he was a distant boy who was thrown into an unfortunate situation. I was sympathetic towards him.

I wanted his closeness because, like him, I'd kept myself distant from everyone until too late. In my mind, life was a game, and in the end everyone loses. Even the winner of the Hunger Games lost something, sometimes the price was too high. Many winners had been deemed insane, some had killed themselves, and some embraced it and lived. That was a special type of torture...

And then it was morning and the Avox girl was shaking me gently. She looked worried when my eyes opened slowly. She pointed at the clothes at the end of my bed, then the door. I looked out and saw the sun was up and shining brightly. As it registered I was late getting up, I sat up and held my head. Concerned, the girl wavered at the edge of my bed, waiting for an order. "I'm okay," I assure her. "Be ready in a moment."

The dress is pale blue today, the color of the silk on my parade dress, and bring out more of the green in the dark pants, even though the underdress was deep blue. I realize that it's the same colors of my dress on the parade night. That would go over well for my training session. Oh, Sug was a very clever man. I wonder what he had planned for my interview dress.

With my coat, my outfit looks spectacular, but the weight of the needles in my pocket dragged it down on one side. The clock read half past nine, so I took a few minutes to get a cup of coffee. At the table I smile wearily at Jet, Ollie and Sid and unwrap the needles at my seat.

Jet's watching me intently, having finished eating. Ollie was saying something about the training sessions today, but I wasn't listening. Sid, having noted Jet's interest, looks at well.

I examine them carefully, each about four inches long, thin and sharpened at the ends. They were all there, ten of them, but the cloth had been more than just a device of keeping them together. It was a holster, fit to be tied around my leg for easy access to my weapons. Rye must have made it for the needles, thinking he could get away with the theft. Or was it a gift? It seemed to be made of fabric shredded from his tunic, wrapped and braided to hold the needles in place. I stretched the top loop of the holster off the tip of a needle and caught it as it fell into my hand perfectly.

"What are they for?" Sid asked.

"I'm no good at throwing knives, so I made needles instead. I couldn't craft them out of metal, but they should work all the same, if I throw hard enough." I strap it on my left leg and stand. I take aim at the cabinet across the room and flick it. It thuds solidly into the wood, dead accurate, and I beam proudly.

"Clever, Nara," Jet says, jumping up to retrieve it. He brings it back, examining it. "It's still rough, could use some polishing, but it's deadly if you hit the right spot. Are these what Rye stole from you?"

I glance at Sid, but nod. "Yeah, but he won't be getting them ever again."

Down in the training room I keep the needles high on my thigh, hidden under my dress. As I round to the stations I wanted more practice in, I wait for Jewel to arrive and she does, in time. She doesn't seem surprised to see me waiting, but doesn't stop to see what I want. I fall in step with her anyway. "I was wondering if maybe you could teach me a bit in archery? You seem to have some skill at shooting quickly, and I'd really like to learn as much as I can."

She slows and turns to face me. "Yeah, and what do I get in return?" she drawls. "You're the one who was going on about handouts yesterday, weren't you?"

I shrug. "What do you want? I have very little on me."

Jewel eyes me suspiciously, but she purses her lips and crosses her arms. "I want into the career's little group."

I open my mouth, about to protest, when I thought better of it. "I don't know if I can get them to agree, but if you're talking an alliance... I can give you my protection, and nothing more. They like me, but I'm barely in."

"Can I sit with you for lunch?" her eyes are intense as they study me.

I shrug and smile. "Sure, I don't mind. I'd like that, actually. Everyone only stops over, even Jet..." I stop there and look away to try and find him. Unlucky for me, he's at the archery pitch. I groan and glare at his back as he loses an arrow at the target and it hits the bullseye.

Jewel seems content, and unconcerned with my inner turmoil, and strides across the room. I follow her, but slowly. I drag my feet as I walk past Jet and pick up a bow, turning my full attention to Jewel, despite Jet's curious glance. She looks at the bow, then my arm. Shaking her head, she takes my bow, and picks out a new one. "That one was too long. Generally, for contest shooting, you'll want a bow about as long as your armspan. For shooting like we're going to be doing, you'll want a shorter bow, easier to move around with. Shoot an arrow for me and I'll let you know where we need to start," she says.

Jet gives her a sharp look behind her back, then looks to me confused. He mouths something, but I pay him no attention as I string the bow she's given me.

I ignore him and ready my stance, draw an arrow, and notch it. I take steady aim at the center, take a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing. When the arrow hits its mark, I lower my arm and grin at her. I take Jet's congratulations with a sarcastic curtsy and nod. "My aim when standing still isn't the problem," I say to Jewel. "It's the slowness of the process, and not being able to move around or hit moving targets."

Jewel's lips are thin, I see as she licks them and looks at the target again. Her brows are low, a bad sign, but her expression borders impressed. "Your stance is good, your aim is good, but you're too stiff. You have to loosen up, not think so rigidly. In fact, don't think so much." She moves to my back, turning me by the arm. "Now, face me."

I do as she tells me and for some reason I look into her eyes, gasping when I recognize the color. I take a step back as eyes like hers, flash across my memory. I give a small gasp, clutching my bow, remembering the fox in my dream from last night.

"Good, I don't know what's on your mind, but good!" she insists, her expression switching to one of amused focus. "Now watch me, only me. When I give you the signal, I want you to turn, draw and fire. Do it in one motion, don't think where to aim, but remember where your bow was aimed when you release. Focus on your fear and your target, do you think you can do all of that?"

I nod, looking at the gloss and shine of her soft blonde hair. She was beautiful, despite her plain face and few trace freckles. I realize I have never seen her with make-up, and if she had worn some in the Parade, it had been hidden when she stood hiding her face in her hands. Her hair is not the color of the black fox's pelt, but her eyes... they had reminded me of the fox on the beach.

"Now," she whispers, barely audible.

Focusing only on the fox, I spin myself with a push from my right foot, bringing the bow up and drawing an arrow mid-turn. I draw back as I face front and when my right foot hits the ground again, I steady myself. I huff out the breath I was holding and look at the target as I release the arrow. I was aiming at the green ring, right bottom under the center, but my arrow struck high and left in the inner blue, due to my bow pulling towards the hand that held it when I released. I could feel the tug, but the spin hadn't let me hold my position quite as well. I was surprised when the arrow hit above the bullseye and stood shocked.

Jewel said nothing, but motioned for me to follow her, watching Jet shoot his last arrow into a nicely grouped set around his own target's bullseye. When he had lowered his bow, we all set out to the targets to retrieve our arrows. "Where did you aim?" Jewel asks when we reach my target, Jet right behind me. Of course, he'd been watching, he'd been listening. He was evaluating me.

I point at the outside green ring I had shot towards mutely. I hear Jet snort, and it's no wonder why. On our targets, the outside of the target is a black woven cloth and secured to hay 30 paces off, 60 paces and the farthest bale is 90 paces. The outermost two rings of the target are white, the next two rings are green, the next two are blue, the outside of the bulls eye is yellow, and the inside center is red. I had aimed for the nearest target, far too low to hit the bullseye, but for some reason, I had hit a above it and a little to the left.

Jewel looked back at the pitch, thought for a long moment, then looked back at me smiling. "You're a natural, or you have some secret that you're not telling me."

I use this to my advantage, and in an instant I have a plan. "Jewel, I just needed to get you out here without attracting attention. Jet, you stay put." I had seen him start to move off to the far target, but I kept my eyes focused on Jewel. "Look, you asked to be part of the career pack?"

Jewel frowns, glancing at Jet pointedly, then nods mutely.

I motion Jet to join us with a slight motion, ignoring Jewel's discomfort. "He's on my side. You can trust him," I assure her quietly. "Just play along." I point out at Jet's target, while I look around the room to see where the rest of the Pack were. Motioning to my target, I ask loudly with a laugh. "So, would you say this lucky shot is better than Jet's well placed, concentrated shots at a lot further back?"

Jewel looked to Jet, who rolled his eyes and just shrugged.

"Just go with it," he muttered.

She shifted her whole body, looking at Jet's target. I was amazed to see something so graceful. She had been standing loosely, ready to turn and run should she need too, but now she stood with both feet close together, arms crossed, holding herself tall. Her head crooked to the side, her hand under her chin with a finger over her lips. I realized it's what she would have looked like in the parade if she hadn't been covering her face.

"Well, it is closer, and you had been moving," Jewel says, shaking her head. "In a match between you and Jet with the bow, I'd say he still has a few points on you with distance and accuracy. Now tell me what's going on, and be quick about it."

I frown and look disappointed. "Look, the career pack is bound to break, and quickly. We hate the careers as much as anyone, but we need them. If you want in the Pack, come to the Cornucopia on the first night, after the dead are announced. By then, we should have taken care of the ones that we don't need."

"You have a plan?" she asks Jet.

"It's something of a plan," Jet answers, then turns and leaves us there.

"If Cairn's dead, come to me straight away," I insist. "If she's alive and I'm dead, you run for your life."

"I'll think about it. Keep working on this, you'll get it."

I was left alone with barely an answer, but as long as the offer was out there, I am content. I don't spend long practicing though, as I'm not too bad and I quickly figure out what is most comfortable for me. I work a little more with the throwing knives, refusing to show off my needles. My aim improves slowly, but I work at it despite my failures.

Just before lunch, I stretch my body and go for a run around the room. I don't just not like to run, I hate it; but I know it is essential to the game for those in danger. The dream I'd had this morning was enough to urge me to push through the pain in my chest and run until I'm exhausted. By that time, lunch had rolled around and my stomach was protesting as much as my legs.

I ate quickly, wolfing down bits of meat and crunching on some nuts as I converse silently with Jewel. She doesn't seem to have much to say, but her presence is comforting. Before long, Jet joins us and looks at me. "Private sessions are starting soon, boys go first. I thought I'd let you know so you can start preparing."

I nod and thank him, tossing him a peach that he catches. "Good luck!" I call after him. "Knock 'em dead!"

Jewel's short laughter next to me is sweet, and when she smiles she looks innocent. "A peach? You give him a gift?"

My lips twist and I open my mouth slowly. "Well, you'd have to understand our limited interaction and the things we barely know about each other. Peaches are something we have in common." I almost told her the story of how Jet and I met, but shake my head. Later there would be time.

"You two," she says softly. "You're the talk of the tributes, you know?"

Her abruptness is concerning, but I smile easily and reach for the second peach I had gotten for me. "Tell me, what do they say about us?" I ask.

Jewel frowns again. "Well, there's your temper, but it's softened by your sweetness. You're intelligent, clever, and when you teach, you lead to the answer gently. Jet is good with weapons, he's strong, but he's focused on you. It's apparent he cares about you, the way he speaks, however, he says crass things about you."

"He's spoken to you about me?" I ask, surprised.

She shook her head, hiding in her hair. "No, no one has said a single word to me aside from my mentor and you. I just listen."

No one had spoken to her? Not even her tribute partner? I put a hand on her shoulder, understanding why she had asked to sit with me. "That makes you more valuable than me," I tell her. "You are the perfect spy."

Jewel shrugs, but smiles a little. "I guess. The careers are a-chatter about you two and how they can control you, eventually pitting you against each other. They hope Jet kills you."

I nod, not surprised. "Well, I'm too clever and Jet... well, he works alone. He may take suggestions, but he doesn't take orders."

"I take orders," Jewel says. "You gave your protection, so I'll protect you too. You tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Sit back and watch the show, Jewel," I say, waving my hand across the tributes. "It's going to be a fun one."

I wait until I'm called, putting up my hair in a ponytail; singing softly. I leave Jewel with a wave, going back to the training room. I'm second and the Gamemakers seem to be in pleasant moods, conversing lightly, watching me with interest. A few point out my outfit and I skip towards them, giving a little spin before bowing to them. They love it and clap, talking to each other once more.

"Nara Chise, District One. I'm going to need a trainer," I say, trying to be confident, but feel like I'm asking a huge favor.

"I'm here already, Chise," I hear coming from somewhere out of sight behind me. "I'll come out when I'm needed. Show them your weapons first, then we'll dance."

I nod and reach down, ripping the vivid blue fabric of my dress and drawing attention. I reveal my wooden throwing needles as I stride over to the target area. I throw a few, hitting a few targets on one dummy, though, not impressive shots. I try and move while I throw, like I had when I shot with the bow, and it helped a little. I'm almost out of needles when I feel a movement to my right and twist to the left, raising my hand automatically to catch the hand that swings past me.

Sid made his entrance perfectly, and uses his own knowledge of martial arts to slip away and we circle each other throwing punches and kicks. He's stronger than I am, but slower and less fluid. He, however, has more experience with a partner and I am quickly overpowered, knocked back and I see him reaching down to end the sparring. Thinking quickly, I did the only thing I could do. I raise my left hand up, last two fingers curled down, thumb out and first two fingers held up and pressed together. "Mercy! I yield!"

Sid stops, and I smile up at the expression on his face. Disbelief and rage battle each other, but he nods and starts to back up. As soon as he moves, I launch myself at him. I catch him unaware, and he stumbles back, dragging me with him. When we come to a stop, my fist is at his throat with my last needle gripped firmly, legs straddling him. "I lied," I laugh. "Sorry."

I get off him and help him to his feet. He's scowling, but when he looks at me, I can see he's impressed. Jet was right, Sid knew how good I was, and I had surpassed his expectations. I retrieve the rest of my needles, slipping them in the holster, bow to the Gamemakers and leave with Sid. He walks with me out the doors and takes me to the elevator where Jet waits with Jade.

When the green-haired girl bounces up to take Sid's arm, I move on to join Jet. I give him a pleased smile and ask how his session went.

He's mysterious and doesn't tell me until we're curled up on the couch in the sitting room. "Jade surprised me," he explained quietly. "I threw a spear, tossed some weights, shot a few arrows... nothing showy, but Jade popped up while I was throwing knives and attacked me."

I laugh, but listen silently as he tells me of his knife battle with the shorter woman.

"It wasn't unlike when you and Sid were dancing," he finished. "I tried to watch, but I was busy at that moment. I couldn't figure out what he was telling you, and I was too far away to hear."

"He was ridiculing me because I can't work with people. I can't dance with him unless I have knives in my hands." I laugh again and kiss his cheek. "They seem to work together those two. They like it. Why can't you work with me that way?"

"We have to kill each other," Jet answers sharply.

"Not if someone kills us first..." I say, holding up a hand when he looks at me angrily. "Look, if we don't work together, we're going to die alone. It's the law of nature, and we have to think beyond the inner problem. We already knew we don't want to kill each other, unless we have to. They don't want to kill us, they want us to kill each other. The only thing keeping us alive is our usefulness. They want you for your strength, your aim, your strong sword arm, and you get along well with both the girls and the boys. Me... I have my rules and my clever mind, that's it. Luckily for me, I have a card up my sleeve they don't know about."

Jet smiles and shakes his head. "Your mind is what will keep you safe while I'm gone. Your honeyed words are sweet, Nara, but you need to stay away from me in the Arena. I've been doing my own work here. You're not the only one making circles, and you're not safe with me."

I'm touched by the warning, but as I lay my head on his shoulder, he holds me gently. When the dinner call comes from an excited Ollie, we're slow to pull away from each other. "Jet..." I say when he stands up. "I'm in love with Chiara." It's the barest of whispers, and I don't even mean to say it, but now that it's said I have no choice but to let it hang between us.

He doesn't answer, and looking into his eyes, I know he had already known. Before I can swallow the lump in my throat and continue, he leaves me sitting there. After a moment I stand, compose myself and follow.

I eat lightly, sticking with a salad with an orange dressing. I drink water, though I was offered wine. Jet, I notice, took a glass and sipped it slowly. Instead of eating, I focus on Ollie who was marvelously entertaining us as only a Capitol escort could. He tells us how he spun our story to the press, our confusing attraction, and our obvious rivalry. He says offhandedly he said very little about our district, but I knew he was forced to talk about Emery and Chiara. I wondered what he had said.

Sid and Jade are lost in each other, speaking in low tones and whispers. They occasionally glance at Jet and I, frowning when they catch us watching.

After dinner we are ushered into the sitting area which they lit up and turned on the television.

The broadcast starts with chatty banter from the announcers before they started the revealing of the scores. Jet is pictured on the television, then a 9 flashes on the television. He seems pleased and laughs with Jade across the room. I'm sitting on the arm of a chair and watching the screen in rapt attention. When my 10 flashes, I take a deep breath. Too high. I had done too well. However, it's not an 11 or 12, so I don't worry too much. Surely more of the Careers would get a ten, they usually did.

It quickly became apparent that the scores were not going to improve, and by the end, I was miserable. Brock also got a 9, which was expected. Cairn's 8 gave me a chill and I knew the girl would be seething right now, screaming, maybe even throwing things.

District Three's tributes were as wretched as they looked, Tessla scraping up a 2 while Switch managed a 3.

Ray had gotten an 8 and Amia a 7, which meant in the Pack, they were controllable. They would do well, as long as they were safe.

Surprisingly, Jewel gets a 7 and I feel a smile on my lips. Good, she must have impressed them for such a score for her District. Her partner, Daniel, had only managed a 5. I wondered what she had done and mentally reminded myself to ask her next we could speak freely.

Aken, the golden-brown boy from District Six received a 6, and Charon a 4, about average for their districts, but I had a sense the girl was holding something back. She could be thinking tactically.

I'm not surprised when Yew pulls a higher score than Cypress though, she seemed to know quite a bit. Her 6 made his 4 look inadequate, but they had been tested separately. I'm assuming the boy didn't know what to do and faltered. The girl was obviously the brains of the duo, and I knew if they fought together, she would be the one to take out first.

Hodden's 5 and Florence's 3 are glossed over quickly, but Rye's 8 flashes on the screen. I knew the boy was clever, but I had thought him too stubborn to get that high a score, considering the scoring had been cut drastically. I was obviously being singled out as an example. Poppy's 6 is typical, but I also feel as if she was hiding some skills. Or she had skills she wasn't able to show, which were more interesting to me.

Bos also receives a 9, which makes me wonder if Jet's 9 was warranted as well. He wasn't nearly as bulky or strong as Brock or Bos, but I knew he had weapon skills. Sierra receives a 6, which looks unimpressive next to her partner's score, but I know those eyes hide secrets even Jewel couldn't discover.

Berry earns a low 4, but Cherry's 5 disappoints me. She seemed so talented, and I knew she'd be the last one to be winded running.

After seeing both tributes from Twelve earn a 2, I stop paying attention and realize the room is thrumming with excitement and joy.

"A 10," Jet breathes, coming up behind me with a soft touch to my back. "Impressive. You must have wowed them."

I smile, looking up at him. I realize he's drunk, but he's not drinking anymore; still I'm cautious. "I'm unhappy I'm the only one who got a 10, but I'm not going to complain. Your 9 seems unnaturally high as well."

He laughs and looks hurt. "I didn't do too badly, you know," he teases, poking my forehead.

I rub the spot and glare at him. "I'm just saying... Brock and Bos are giants! They're unnaturally big for their ages. How did you rank up with that much muscle and mass?"

He brushes his hair back and winks. "Charm, good looks, and speed?"

I'm doubtful, but I laugh with him. When he asks what I did, I give him a smile. "I yielded."

He looks at me in disbelief. "You... what?"

I hold up my hand in front of me as I had done, last two fingers closed, first two raised with a stuck-out thumb. "I yielded. Sid was too strong, and knocked me down quickly. So I did the smart thing, I surprised him by begging mercy. When he dropped his guard, I attacked."

"What if he hadn't?" Jet asks seriously.

"Then my score wouldn't be as impressive," I admit, kicking myself mentally.

We're joined by Sid who is positively glowing with pride, but Jet quickly excuses himself.

"You did well, I knew you would," Sid starts. "However, I'm going to have to ask you to give me your coat, Chise. I'm taking it with me when I leave."

I frown, standing from the arm of the chair I was perched on. "My coat?"

He nods once, stern. "I want you to put your needles and anything you'll want for the arena in the insides pockets now. No food. Leave it hung up when you go to bed. I promise you, you'll get it again."

I wonder what his thinking is, but I don't question it, only reach down to untie the holster on my leg, wrap it up and stuck it in one of the inside pockets. I knew my wedge was in another pocket, but didn't look for it. I don't even wait before hanging it up on the peg, hesitating before slipping my ring off my finger. I stare at it before putting it back on my hand, kissing the rose the sapphires formed. I can't give it up, even though I know I'll see it again. I'm weak like that.

I stay and have a few drinks with Jade and Ollie, Sid refusing to touch any. Jet joins us, sitting with his arm around my shoulders. We laugh and talk about what we'd do with the winnings. He wants to move his family in with him, close the barber shop, and maybe settle down. I smile wistfully, wondering if that would even be possible after. I make up a story about an attractive statue for the park, in honor of the Hunger Games. The more I talk about it, the better an idea it becomes. Jet agrees it would be a nice touch, and when our eyes lock, I see the question in his eyes.

_Which of us is going to build it, Nara?_

Our night comes to a close and Ollie retires to his quarters. Jade and Sid bid us good-night, reminding us to be up early in the morning. Sid has my jacket and Jade has a longer coat under her arm as well. They share a knowing glance between them, then leave us standing at the door.

Jet looks to me and I can feel the tension starting. I try and steer the conversation away by distracting him. "Jade gave you a coat too?" I ask.

He nods. "I didn't wear it," he said, taking my arm and leading me gently down the hall towards our rooms. We pass mine and I'm suddenly confused. I try and stop him, but when he looks back at me, his expression strikes me silent. He pulls me into his room, closing the door behind us.

I hear the lock flip, and I realize why he refused to stay in here very long. It's much darker in his room than mine, and suddenly I can't move, encased in dark until my eyes adjust to the soft gloom. Having just walked in from the bright hall, it was different than being in bed when the lights turn off.

"I don't like being in here alone," Jet whispers. "I hate the dark."

"You and me both," I admit. "The dark is the only thing I'm afraid of. I can figure out a solution to almost any attacker; the dark is another breed of terror.

"So..." he says, hesitating. "What's your answer?

I want to run, but don't want to face my own dark room alone. "It's not a game," I say quietly. "It's life. Life is the game."

He guides us to his bed, which is smaller than mine, but still wide enough for both of us to spread out comfortably. We don't, however. We hold each other face-to face, curled and tangled with each other, enjoying the feeling. My skin is tingling and flushed, my head fuzzy.

We talk for hours in hushed voices about nothing, favorite things, things we hate, the hobbies we used to have. I'm surprised to find he loves to read, and he can't understand how I can watch trees bloom while drinking tea all day.

When his lips meet mine, I don't push him away. I touch his face softly as he kisses my lips again, my cheek and then sinking his teeth gently into my neck as he pulls me close to him. I cry softly, groaning in pain and pleasure mixed as I move back and feel him growing hard between us. I say nothing as he helps me out of my clothes, but when I lay in his bed naked, I become aware of what we're about to do. I cover myself with my arms, watching him undress.

When Jet senses my discomfort, he stops. "Say the word and we'll put our clothes back on," he says, brushing my hair out of my face.

I don't reply, feeling my face getting hot. I want this. I want this more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. I don't want to die without knowing. I had never let anyone get close to me, never had a boyfriend, and even though I had a girlfriend now... I pulled Jet down next to me. "I've never done this," I tell him.

His frown deepens, then he grins, lifting my chin up to look at him. "Are you telling me, that little Nara is a virgin? Oh, I was sure someone had sweet-talked you into his bed..."

I shake my head, giggling nervously. "I'm not that easy," I say.

"You're in _my_ bed," he pointed out. "What would Chiara say?" he asked. He's mocking me, but his finger slips down from my chin and down my chest to circle a nipple.

I moan, unable to stop myself. When I don't protest, he dips his head. His tongue is soft and wet, but when he catches my nipple in his lips I gasp. He pins my arms quickly and he has a strong grip, I know I'll never be able to break away from him like this. He teases my breasts with lavish kisses, seductive licks and nips, leaving me to whimper beneath him. 

"I can't wait any longer," he says, the softest of the whispers. "If you're going to stop me, do it now." 

I can't say no, and I pull him up to cover me as our lips meet again. I allow him access to my mouth and cry out when he enters me. He only stops when I beg him, hand on his chest, tearing up in pain. 

"It's going to hurt," he says, holding me, but drawing out slightly. "You may bleed. I've taken a few virgin girls into my bed. They left forgetting it had ever hurt in the first place." 

"Is that bragging?" I ask, wincing. I knew I couldn't have been his first, but he was my first and only man. 

"It's confidence... and skill," he chuckles, bucking hard against me and swallowing my scream in a rough kiss. 

The pain is sharp, stretching, as he enters me fully. I try and squeeze my legs together, but he just grunts and thrusts in and out. His arms support me like I'm weightless and he cradles me as he picks me up. I grasp his shoulders and break from his kiss, breathing hard as I rode him. His hips force me up, but his hand on my hip and arm around my back pull me back forcefully. 

I hated how good it felt, and how soon I was moaning words of encouragement and crying his name when he ordered me to. I had never heard a sweeter sound than the moans and laughs of pleasure coming from Jet's mouth, and they were so loud next to my ear. 

"Chise..." 

I cry, clutching at him, one hand tangled in his dark hair, the other gripped to his firm shoulder. My _name_. He had called my name. I'm lost in the feel of him moving within me when I feel myself tighten around him. 

Next thing I know, he pushes me away, back onto the bed. He scrambled backwards, holding himself, panting. He groaned slightly, before he looked at me, laughing. He had on the sort of grin a man gives a woman when she's done something very naughty. "That was close, Nara." 

I am confused, and have my back against the wall, holding myself. "What? What did I do?" 

He sighs and strokes himself slowly, breathing deeply to calm himself. "It's my pleasure to pleasure you, but I wouldn't seed with you. I couldn't. I mean, you're not mine. Because you love someone else, right?" 

I nod slowly, before shaking my head in disbelief. "Yeah... I was being stupid, sorry. It just... felt good. It felt... right. If you want, I'll go back to my room," I say, starting to reach for my clothes. I wasn't a fool, I knew how babies were brought into this horrible world. I was, however, fool enough to get caught by Jet. 

He stops me, throwing my clothes back to the floor. We struggle, and we end up with my face pressed against the wall, on my knees, arms caught in one of his hands above my head. He has my body stretched out, pressed against the hardness between our legs. He enters me and I close my eyes. I struggle, shaking my head and scream for him to stop, but it's all trapped in my mouth behind his hand. Unable to stop him, I relax, and even enjoy the feeling of being trapped in Jet's arms. I know I'm safe now, but in the Arena I wouldn't be. I may not want him to continue, but I know he won't hurt me. I know, whatever the cost of his actions now, we both want this. 

With all my noises muffled by his hand, I can hear every grunt and groan, all breathed into my ear from behind. When I stop fighting and move with him, his left hand lets my hands go and slips around to hold my stomach as he resumed where we left off. I focus only on trying not to want it, trying not to like it, trying to stop myself from moaning with him. 

"You like that, don't you?" he croons in my ear, pressing me closer to the wall. "When I _force_ you... Takes the choice out of your hands." 

I groan as his hand covering my mouth slips to my throat. He squeezes gently, and I let him take control, trusting him for the last time. "Jet!" I gasp, unable to say anything else. 

He shudders and slows for a second, then his resolve returns and he thrusts hard once, twice, and on the third he groans, pushing himself inside me deeply. "This isn't a mistake," he assures me softly, forehead resting on my shoulder. "You're not hers... you're _mine_." 

I struggle against him, twisting and trying to break away, but his arms are strong. His breathing quickens as I fight, as if it turns him on more, as if the feeling is pleasurable to him. I hear him whisper my name once more, softly, like he's pleading with me, his thumb stroking my stomach. Then a heat spilling inside me as he began to throb, thrusting desperately, crying his pleasure into my hair. 

I support our weights on the wall and shiver around him, unable to stop trembling and moving with him. I find myself whimpering with him as he holds me, as if he'd never let go. Not for anything. 

"I'm sorry," he says when we still and part. He releases me, and moves away, leaving me huddled at the head of the bed. He sits at the end, back to me. 

I catch my breath and curl around the wall, hiding myself in my hair. "Jet... what were you _thinking_?" 

He laughs, and it sounds hollow. I see a spark of light as he lights a match, holding it up to reveal a thin white cigarette. "My last two, you might as well have one." 

I'm surprised he has them, but when he offers, I take the last one and let him light it for me. "Where did you get these?" 

"I asked Jade for them, and she gave me this. Took me three hours to figure out how to get into it." 

I nod, but I'm distracted at the matter at hand. "Jet..." 

"I was thinking," he said, his eyes glowing strangely in the light of the match before he shook it dead. "I was thinking 'What if I don't make it out of the Arena? What if she doesn't? What if she _does_?' And then I figured if we die, it won't matter. If you win, and if you do end up with child... I'll have made it out of the Arena. One way, or another..." 

I stare at him, horrified. I'm terrified to raise my voice, and I'm shocked at the reasoning behind his actions. "You're telling me, that because we may or may not die it was okay to do that? After you said you wouldn't? After we agreed it wasn't right? Didn't you ever think of how I might feel about it?!" 

He takes a long drag of his cigarette, thinking his answer over carefully, knowing I'm patient enough to wait for it. "I thought that when faced with death, a baby as a reward would be like a... I dunno, a wedding gift. A gift for the stupid girl who gets to keep the girl I want. Who I've always wanted." 

"Are you..." I let the sentence drift off as I think his words over. "You want me to... keep it? Even knowing they may someday play the games too?" I cover myself with his disheveled sheet and creep closer to him. "If I make it out, you want me to have a child and raise it with Chiara, is that what you're telling me?" 

"I could think of nothing better," he muses, laying back, unashamed of his nakedness. "You and her can have your happy ending, and when you look at our little boy or girl... You'll think of me, you'll think of my lifeless body in the arena and we can all be there. You can train them, they can volunteer and follow in your family's crazy footsteps. But you will tell them how they came to be, as you will have to tell Chiara." 

I sit there thinking, smoking the cigarette slowly, and flicking the ashes to the floor. They were a luxury I didn't indulge in often, but was much needed right now, to steady my trembling hands. I'm enraged, but unable to do anything to stop what had happened. His words only sting compared to his actions. "I'll do it," I say quietly, looking down at him. "Chiara and I can't have children, after all. I can only imagine what someone would say if we told them we wanted to get married." I laugh, trying not to appear too concerned. 

I had never wanted children. I had never wanted a girlfriend. Until tonight, I had never wanted a lover. All I had ever wanted was the Hunger Games. It was grim, but it was true. In that moment, everything I had felt for Jet crumpled in a ball in my chest and set itself on fire. He was desperate, and he had done what he thought he had to. Just to escape. As much as I might have cared for him, the game wasn't worth a child. 

He says nothing as we finish our treat, then throws them in a pitcher of water he has at the end of the bed. Jet roughly pulls the blanket off of me, throwing it towards the door and crawls under the sheet, holding it open for me. He holds me close under the thin barrier that kept us safe from the morning, but keeps his hands in careful positions. 

"Oh Nara," he sighs sleepily, running his fingers through my hair. 

As I lay there with him at my back, I stare into the darkness. I remember a thought I'd had earlier in the week. A person at my back was not to be trusted. I should have followed Sid's advice. Trust no one. "I'll never forgive you for this Jet," I say. 

He doesn't answer, but I know he heard me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dream sequence was ever evolving from the first construct of it. I decided it was too important to not describe in detail. I won't describe how it connects, because I want people to make the discovery for themselves.
> 
> What I WILL say is that dream required flowcharts, a Venn diagram, and like three pages of notes (composition notebook, both pages).


	10. Chilling Consequences

We wake in the morning to shouts and hard knocks on the door. I scramble for clothing, but Jet climbs out of bed and unlocks the door. Ollie and Sid burst through the doors, already angry.

"This is _not_ acceptable tribute behavior! Sneaking about, empty beds, locked doors! Young man, put some _pants_ on!"

I slip on the thin underdress quickly, face red and pull on my pants before I stand, grabbing the rest of my clothes. I'm stopped by Sid's disappointed glare, but I toss my head and walk out defiantly. I was shamed, but I was caught, nothing I can do. I hear the murmur of low voices as I rush into my room where my Avox was waiting.

I looked at her, angry, wondering if she was the one that had alerted them, and when she looked back at me, I no longer cared. I throw my clothes at her, ripping off my pants and torn underdress, screaming at her, stark naked, to get out.

Turning my back on her, I rush to the shower to clean myself. The hot water feels good on my skin and I press a button for a full body scrub, the peach scent filling my nose and drowning out the memories of last night. I screwed up, I made bad decisions, but I was beginning to doubt my survival in the Arena anyway. I would take my punishment, I would take the admonishing of Sid, Jade and Ollie if it meant we could drop it.

I wash my hair quickly and after I'm dried, I let the machine dry, detangle and brush my hair, coming out looking like brushed ruby. There's clothes waiting for me, and an angry looking Jade standing in front of the door, arms crossed.

She says nothing, but the silence was punishment enough as she watches every movement of me dressing.

When I tug the tight black dress into place, I turn and pull my hair out of the way. I put on the heels that are on the floor and take a few test steps. "Can you zip me up?" I ask quietly, giving her my back.

She moves and steps up; grasping my arm as she slowly drags the zipper up. "Your actions have given me the pleasure of being your first instructor. I'll take you and make you into a lady."

"I think it's too late for that, Jade," I whisper sadly, tossing my head so my hair would fall into place. "As long as we can leave it at that, I'll do anything you want me to."

"Stand up straight, don't slouch," Jade snaps. "Just because you two had a night of fun doesn't mean we're going to go hard on you, nor are we going to be easy. You two have to set a certain standard, and sneaking around like this is disgraceful."

I do the unthinkable and grab her hand. "It's my fault," I exclaim. "I didn't want to die... well, I didn't want to die a virgin."

Her lips twist and she looks away, sighing. "We're willing to overlook it this time if you swear it'll never happen again."

"I swear," I say immediately, meaning it. I would never fall for Jet's traps again.

Jade had me walk around in the heels, which I dislike, but I do everything without complaint. I'm competent, used to wearing heels for various occasions I would attend with Chise and her family sometimes. Jade instructs me how to hold myself and walk at the same time, but when I'm not getting it, she breaks down and finds a book to put on my head. "Glide," she says. "Walk tall and float! Don't let the book fall from your head!"

I try to listen, but every few steps, my chin lowers and the book falls off. I sigh and tuck my head, shaking it. "I just can't manage to keep my head up."

Jade tuts, then taps my chin hard. "Keep your head up kiddo, it's not the first time someone has fooled around, it won't be the last. Keep on your toes, use your heels if you have to. Think of it as a dance." Her eyes twinkled and I knew she had heard of my training with Sid.

I take a deep breath, kneel carefully and pick up the book; standing and putting it back on my head. I keep my chin level, and take a few steps, slowly turning my head as I lightly walk in a circle, feeling the movement of the book and carefully trying to predict which direction to move in.

When I'm able to walk in a full circle with confidence, Jade tells me to sit in the chair. She tells me it's acceptable to cross my ankles and tuck them under me if I must, but at all times keep my legs closed. I keep my mouth shut as I stand and readjust myself, sitting tall and keeping my chin up, though I had a hard look in my concentration.

"Loosen up, Chise," Jade says quietly, twirling her short spiky green hair. "You're doing well, and already move well, I just wanted to get rid of some of your doubt. You and Jet, you hold yourselves up. You have a certain resilience, wanting to keep everyone at bay. Everyone except each other, apparently. I want to know for certain you remember that you cannot keep each other."

"I don't plan to keep him," I say, leaning back and mimicking Jewel's thoughtful pose. "I don't know if we'll meet each other in the Arena, but I know he plans to leave. He's told me as much, and he'll stick to that plan. I'm staying with the Pack and working there."

Jade nods and leans forward. "And you, Chise, don't you feel anything about last night?"

I think about it for a moment, then shake my head slowly. "It was stupid desperation. We both needed someone to hold, and it got out of hand."

"Jet actually cares for you Chise. He's trying not to, but sometimes telling yourself something isn't enough. He's willing to die for you."

The confession shocks me. That must have been what had been on his mind. I wring my hands, and look up at her. "You just don't understand!" I insist. "The girl I saved back in District One. She's sweet on Jet." The lie falls from my lips, and I'm so distraught, it sounds convincing. "She came to see me, and made me swear I'll spare Jet and let him come home." I stare at the ring on my hand. It glitters at me, and looks inky black in the dim lights. "She's my best friend..." I choke out. "She's my best friend and she wants _him_ to come home!"

Jade's lips split into a smile and she points at me. "Good! Go with that. It's brilliant! When you're doing your interview, you tell the Capitol this story! They'll love it."

I stare at her in shock, then glare at her. It was almost true enough, and I was a little hurt. "I don't-"

"Look, Chise," Jade says softly, holding up a hand. "It doesn't matter what you say to the Capitol, as long as it's a good story. Real or not real; as long as it's colorful, they will watch it. Also, we are spreading the story you got caught in bed together."

"What?!" I exclaim, lurching forward, untangling my legs quickly.

"You couldn't expect that to stay quiet. It'll get you sponsors, it'll get you stupid fans, it'll get bets through the roof on who will kill who!" Jade says, unflinchingly watching me struggle. "And you needed some punishment. The other tributes may not know, yet, but it is in the rumor mill and you will be asked about it in your interview. You can affirm or deny, it doesn't matter; the rumor will only be rumor."

"I admit when I do something wrong," I say fiercely. "I'll find a way to work with it, and I have time to figure it out. Leave that to me."

Jade shrugs and stands. "Then we're done here. You're competent enough to answer questions brilliantly. I know you can be sweet, sexy, intelligent, proper, insightful, and considerate. You don't need coaching to manipulate the Capitol, you're already so good."

I catch her meaning as she smiles at me.

"However, you two will be confined to your rooms today. I'll be outside, if you need something knock on the door and I'll have it sent to you."

She hesitates before taking my hand, looking at my ring. "She must love you very much," she murmurs, admiring the work.

"You don't understand what you're talking about," I growl, and I mean it. Chiara would forgive me if I made it back. She'd be so happy to see me again she wouldn't care. The thought sickens me and I hang my head and jerk my arm away from the woman.

I need to find a way to turn this rumor to my advantage. I could just admit to the whole thing. I think about that for a good hour, already having dismissed denying it. It occurs to me I could tell a half-truth and tell them how Jet had forced himself on me. I shudder and shake my head. No... I had the chance to say no and I didn't. In the back of my mind, a soft voice tries to scream at me, but is covered over by other stupid notions.

I am vomiting into the toilet when I hear it clearly. I wipe my mouth, instantly refreshed and focused. I walk to the sink and rinsed my mouth, then cup my hand in the cool water to take a long drink. "There's a third option," I exclaim, laughing loudly. I pace in the heels, finding the perfect strut as I plot.

It had slipped my mind in my confusion, but my mind is back in the game now. I didn't have to discuss the rumor. Jade said I could confirm or deny and it wouldn't matter. So I decide to not to acknowledge it at all. It was real, it was false, a myth, or an oh-so-painful truth... I throw myself on my bed and curl into a tiny ball.

I accept the solitude, embrace it, wrap it around me like a blanket and sleep.

I wake hours later when Sid steps into my room. I'm still lying how I had fell and I'm very stiff, and very sore, but I hide my wince as I stand and walk around the edge of the bed to sit in one of the armchairs. "Please, sit," I say, offering him a seat.

He sets down a tray with tea in round mugs and more in a teapot on a cloth. It must still be hot. I take the offered cup with a slight bow of my head and a soft thanks. I sniff it and smile. "Peppermint?" I ask.

He nods. "It was your father's favorite."

I chuckle and nod, instantly sitting on the porch of our house in the Victor's Village, snow on the ground, sitting and listening to the trees on the porch. I take a sip and close my eyes, remembering the smell of the ice in the air and the sound of the cracking wood. "I used to talk with my father, and he would tell me of his time in the Games... He told me everything his mentor told him, taught me the important things to remember, taught me the rules to live by..."

"That man was probably the most adaptable hunter I've ever taught," Sid agrees, drinking his own tea.

I smile and look into my tea. "I knew as soon as you told us rule one."

"Trust no one, Chise" Sid insists. "Not me, not Jade, not Jet. We will let you down and betray you. Jade and I may give you gifts in the Arena, but we won't shower them on you. If you can get it yourself, we'll give you nothing. It may not be what you want, but always what you need."

I absorb this in the silence that follows. I finish my tea and pour myself more. "Do you want more, Master Obsidian?" I ask, holding the teapot delicately.

He holds his cup out and watches me pour the tea, staring at my hands, and wrists in particular. He smiles and tips his cup to me before he takes a sip. "You pour tea like your mother. Soft and gentle."

"She spent many hours making sure I knew how to prepare and pour tea for ceremonies," I say happily, remembering every painstaking minute and every failure. "Mother grew worse as I grew older, and I understood her fears. I tried to please her, but in the end, I was blind to their true intentions. They were strong parents, brave to have a child. In the end... I think it shamed them. I think they truly believed in the old ways and killed themselves to get back the honor that was stolen from them."

Sid is quiet for a long time, gazing at me. "Did you volunteer to get their honor back as well?"

"I think that thought crossed my mind a time or two, but I want to think I volunteered to bring honor to District One."

"Too much, it sounds like you're trying to placate them. Try for something brasher, but humble."

"I volunteered because I wanted a chance to show everyone I'm not worthless," I say, adding a biting tone. "If I had known the trouble it would have been, I would have moved into that little girl's house and pretended to be the daughter they lost." Of course he was testing me with his wordplay. Why would it just be a normal conversation?

Sid frowns, but I can tell he likes it. "So you're going with this story then? That Chiara is in love with Jet, he likes you, and you... what about you?"

"Chiara has told me on many occasions that she likes him, and even dragged me around town to run into him. I was always left off to the side to wait for her. I talked with his younger brother Emery, but I never met his sister Ruby. I hear she's in constant training; she'll be volunteering next year most likely."

"Likely, but if that's the case, and she really is your best friend, then why did you have sex with the man she loves?" Sid asks bluntly.

I know it's a trap and I shake my head. "Who says we had sex last night?" I ask.

"You were caught in his bed, naked. He answered the door without a stitch of clothing on!" Sid exclaims, showing a hint of his honest displeasure.

"I made him sleep on the floor," I say, remembering Jet throwing the blanket on the floor before we went to sleep. "As for what I sleep in, it's none of anyone's business."

"Clever, but we both know that's not true, Chise. I saw the sheets."

I can't tell if he's talking to me as himself or the Capitol anymore. I'm perturbed about it, but I hold my head high and smile. "You can say what you want, but the funny thing is, I don't care anymore. If I slept with him, so what? I may be dead in a couple days! I had one last night of reckless abandonment, and honestly, when he held my throat, I honestly hoped he'd snap my neck and end it. I knew he wouldn't, not yet, but there was a dark glimmer of hope."

"Do you want to die?" Sid asks, and I can tell he's back to business.

"No one _wants_ to die, not really. With the mentality that I fight for more than myself, I find a certain peace in dying for a noble reason, and that's the honest truth Sid," I say, and I say it with a brilliant smile. "I have a love for the Hunger Games. It is the only thing I've ever looked forward to."

"They'll certainly like to hear that. Go for the pride, honor, and valor. They'll be eating out of your hand, little flower."

"I have thorns," I remind him. I enjoy the sound of his laughter. "I think that the flowery dresses Sug has designed for me make me look soft and make people forget I'm a cold-hearted beast underneath. I want to go home, Sid."

"To that girl?"

I huff and look away. "I'd rather die than face her after this whole mess. I already know I'm going to have to do some really horrible things if I want to make it out."

"You'll have no choice," he said setting his empty cup on the tray. "Follow me. The second half of your test, and your punishment starts now."

Surprised, I stand and follow him across the floor, retrieving my shoes at his sharp look at my feet.

It had taken one day for the rumor that the tributes from District One were caught naked in a room together. It was all I could process at the moment. I hoped they didn't have secret cameras in our rooms. Even if they could prove it, I didn't have to talk about it. Even if Jet openly admits what we did, I would stay silent.

I try to imagine what Sug would clothe me in now, and what Jet would be forced to endure. I contemplated sitting naked in front of all of Panem. Probably as Jewel had felt during the parade. Of course, I had longer hair... I would hope that Sug wasn't that cruel, but the possibility was there.

I also hoped Jet wouldn't be that cruel. If someone was going to tell Chiara the truth, it would have to come from me, to her face. I couldn't have her see me admit it over the broadcasts. It'd shame her.

Sid led me to the main area where Jet stood with Jade, and when I realized it, I dropped my eyes. So the second half of our torture was to force us to interact. "Sit there and behave yourselves. Jade and I will be preparing dinner for you tonight, and we'll be keeping an eye on you. We'll have dinner like civilized people and have a short time resembling normal life, since you've obviously lost your heads in this Capitol Life."

I rolled my eyes and instead crossed to the window. I didn't have to sit, I didn't have to talk, I just had to not get in trouble. Easy enough. Jet hung back, but I could feel him watching me. I knew even before he moved that he would join me. He stood next to me, looking out at the Capitol, absently reaching out to put his arm around my shoulders.

"You look beautiful," he said softly.

"Shut up," I growled. I almost pushed him away, but when I felt his hand shaking, I looked up.

Jet stepped back and held out his hand. "Dance with me."

"What?" I asked, thoroughly thrown off guard.

"Last night you said you like to dance. I'm not going to die without dancing with the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

I frowned, but took his hand. It didn't mean anything. If he wanted to dance, we'd dance. If he wanted to sit in silence, that was fine with me too. He was right. At this stage in the game, what was the point anymore? He drew me in, putting his other hand around my waist. My hand went to his shoulder and we awkwardly began to move. I hadn't expected him to be a terrible dancer, but his small slow careful steps showed me he'd at least studied basic dance.

"I'm sorry."

"Too late," I responded, resting my head on his shoulder. "You've ruined everything with your selfishness." I expected him to respond, but instead he pressed his cheek against mine. I could feel the prickle of his growing stubble as he whispered in my ear.

"I wanted you… is that so wrong? You didn't want to leave either, or you would have. Am I right?"

I couldn't respond. I couldn't think of a single reason I hadn't gotten out of that bed and returned to my room… "It doesn't matter anymore. Soon, one of us will be dead. I hope it's me. I don't want to win anymore. I can't imagine going home now."

"For Chiara, obviously," he responded. "She'd be heartbroken if you didn't return. She would never recover."

"And if I start showing a baby bump, she'll be perfectly okay, right?"

"She's young," he snapped, guiding me into an unexpected turn. "She'll get over it. Tell her I forced you. She'll be so glad that you're alive, she might not even mind. Sweet girl like her, I can't imagine she'd ever stay angry at anyone for long."

I chuckled, thinking of an incident from a few years ago. "You've never met the youngest Quicksilver boy, have you?"

"Marc? Little curly redhead, tons of freckles. My mother always sighed when those boys came in. She used to say they had the most difficult hair to tame."

I snorted and shook my head. "Well, Chiara despises that boy. She told me they used to be close as toddlers, but he put gum in her hair one day because he was jealous of how sleek and shiny it was. She's never forgiven him for it, and each time he sees her, he lets out the shrillest little squeak, and tears off like the hounds of hell were after him."

Jet lets out out a laugh and pulled away, stopping our movement.

I drew back to look at him, but he held my hand tighter to prevent me from letting go. His smile is so serene.

"Don't trust any of them, Chise. I know you want to, but they will all kill you. Why would you trust someone who would kill you?"

"Not all of them fit that category," I murmur.

"Everyone of us will kill you to live. Even me."

"You, maybe," I said, leaning towards him. "I don't doubt you even have a plan. But you danced with me tonight."

"What does that mean?" Jet asked, drawing my hand back to his mouth.

"Great question." I was aware of the presence behind us, and turned, stepping back into Jet's embrace. His arm protected me as best it could from the gaze of the two mentors that stood there. We stood, watching them both watch us. "We're behaving ourselves!" I insist. "He wanted to… dance."

"We know," Jade said simply. "We saw. Please, continue. We will trust you two." Linking her arm with Sid's, they left them and returned to the kitchen.

I paused, waiting to see if they would return, then touched Jet's arm. As expected, he withdrew his arm and released my hand. I could have moved further away, but I didn't take a step. "Continue, she said." Turning back to him, I reached out my hand. "I'm the lead now. Dance with me."

He grinned and took my hand. Putting his hand on my shoulder, he nods.

I wrap my arm around his waist, placing my hand on the small of his back. Without warning, I stepped towards him. I was glad to feel him react, and I moved with him. Twisting away, I dragged him with me, sliding my hand to his hip. It only took two steps for him to press into the motion, to completely take over.

I couldn't calculate the time we spent moving. I didn't want to stop, but Sid's voice was absolute.

"Dinner's ready, you two."

We stopped and stepped away. I bowed, hands at my side, and was pleased to see him echo the movement. He did shock me by offering his arm, but I took it. He seemed to have gotten the hang of leading, because I didn't realize I was in my chair until he tucked it in. "Thank you."

He smiled and nodded, before walking around to sit across from me.

Dinner passed quickly. A simple steak with asparagus and a potato. Conversation was of home. Memories shared between friends. Sid told us stories of home when he lived in the streets. Jade told us funny stories of Sid when he was her instructor.

At the end of the night, however, we were escorted to our rooms. Outside mine, Jet stopped. Everyone waited, but he didn't pay any attention to them.

"Sleep well, Nara."

"You as well Jet," I spoke up immediately. I stepped back to the door, but hesitated.

"Can I hug her? One last time?" Jet asked, taking a single step towards me. "We may die in a couple days."

Jade pressed herself to Sid's side, but nodded sharply.

"Chise?" Jet asked, offering his hand.

My feet moved and I reached for him. Our arms wrapped around each other, and we held on as tightly as we dared.

"Run from me," Jet whispered. "Give me an opening, and I will kill you."

"You'll kill your escape. You don't live without me." I pressed my lips to his, gripping his shirt. "Good-bye Jet. Dream of me." I reached back and met the door handle, twisting it and whirling into the room, slamming it behind me and quickly twisting the lock.

I stood there, listening to them leave. He required two escorts to his room. They had both left with him. What had he asked for to get such favors? When I hear Sid and Jade return down the hall, I leave my place at the door.

I manage to unzip the dress and tug it off. I leave it thrown on the floor and crawl under the blankets. I watch the ceiling as I think of how this will affect my relationships with the other tributes. They're likely to believe the rumor, especially when I side step the questions. Maybe I can avoid the topic for three minutes, and the question will be shifted to Jet. That seemed likely, and the story that was almost true would shock the question away, or into the spotlight. I moan and squeeze my eyes shut until sleep takes me.


	11. The Interview

I'm summoned in the morning by my prep team who hastily gets me out of bed and into the shower. They choose the settings, but I hear them twittering to each other excitedly. The overwhelming smell of sakura blossoms is around me as I scrub with a brush. My hair is washed and conditioned, but the smell never left. By time I am dried and my hair dry, I knew I smelled of nothing else; I am just so desensitized, the smell seemed to vanish.

"Sug has the most beautiful gown for you," Kaiza tells me as she pats down my whole body with silvery-white powder until my skin is pale and shimmery. "We've seen it. Made especially for you."

Reeza is doing my hair, braiding parts, twisting others, winding and intertwining some of it to form a bun that she secures with a silver kanzashi with beads of jade and jet dripping down and swaying when I turn my head.

"Am I to be a flower again?" I ask, watching Csheza paint my nails a pale pink.

She giggles and puts a finger to her lips. "We won't spoil the surprise for you."

I could take a lesson from these three on talking about something, but saying nothing. I sit patiently as they paint my face, transforming me. When I see myself in the mirror, I don't know the girl staring back at me. Her face is white and painted over with liquid black paint that accents her eyes, making them look sharp and severe. Her lids are soft pink, and her lips painted with a glossy rose glimmer, but it is the mole darkened with paint beneath my left eye that assures me that I'm gazing at myself.

Not only is my face fainted white, but the back of my neck as well. "Tell me... what has Sug planned?"

"Only the most extraordinary gown you have ever seen, Love!" Sug exclaims, coming in with his arms full of fabric, boxes, and bags of smaller boxes. "We must do this quickly, we haven't much time. I approve of that hair ornament, Reeza. Wherever did you find it?"

"It was given to me by her mentor, and is to be returned to him at the end of the night," Reeza says, shivering. "He says she'll wear it or wear nothing. He was so scary, Sug! I couldn't say no and ruin all your hard work!"

Sug frowns, but drops his parcels into the armchairs. "Alright beauty, let's dress you up."

If I had thought the last dress was over the top, I had underestimated Sug drastically. The dress he has designed for me is extravagant, and he's wasted no expense. I had never worn sheer stockings before and Csheza helps me into them, fixing them to my thighs with black lace garters, each with a single blue rose on them. Instead of covering my toes, they're open, save a single loop that hooks over each middle toe. I have a body slip that just covers the garters, which is covered over by a corset. It was like my bodice, but it went under my clothes and squeezed me even tighter.

I am holding the chair, trying to keep the room from spinning when Sug brings his vision for me into view. It's a flood of the palest pink, a gorgeous robe designed around the robes my ancestors wore, only altered. I touch it gently, looking up, begging him to let me take it.

He hands it over and watches as I walk away with it towards the mirror.

The robe feels light in my hands, and in a moment I'm remembering a happier time. I grip the robe and swirl it around me, sliding my arms in the wide sleeves easily and wrapping it expertly around myself, tying it in place. The skirt billows around me like petals and I enjoy the freedom rather than the rigid tube a kimono usually forced. The way the robe is sewn, I can tell it's less bulky as well. However, the collar is familiar, and I understand why my neck is painted now.

"Oh Sug..."

"Don't thank me yet, sweetness," he says, motioning me back.

The obi is emerald green, and unadorned, carefully tied and tucked. When I'm able to step away I gush over it until Sug turns dark and shushes me, ordering Kaiza to bring a rope of jade beads that they wrap around my throat in loops.

I find a smooth silver band on my right middle finger, tiny silver rings on a few of my toes, cuffs of thin silver that wrap around my ears. By time they finish, I'm close to fainting and they look tired.

Turning to the mirror finally, I smile, shaking my head. "Sug... There is no finer stylist in Panem. Silvya has right to be jealous, he's just not talented enough." I reach up and tuck a bit of hair back in place, staring at my reflection. It wasn't entirely traditional, but it was close. I wasn't the traditional type anyway. Besides, Sug had tried so hard to please me and he had succeeded, capturing the essence of the flower my mother loved so much.

I stride lightly to the mirror, then slow and shorten my steps, gliding on the balls of my feet, tiptoeing over. "No shoes, Sug?" I ask, looking at him in the mirror. "Truly?"

"Just this once, doll," he says with a laugh. "If you win, you should clothe yourself in nothing but cashmere for the rest of your life. You look so beautiful, soft!"

I shake my head, my hand brushing the skirt back and sinking to my knees gently, sitting as my mother had taught me as a child. I fold my feet under me, sitting on them, hands in my lap. "No," I say firmly, looking at the softness of the skirt, covered by thousands of pink blossoms. "If I win this year, I'll clothe myself in flowers just to honor you." It's a moment before I rise fluidly and turn to my team. "I hope they ask about my dresses, Sug. You've poured your soul into them!"

"You look divine, deary," Sug insists. "Let's get you out there."

I tuck my hands in my sleeves and follow him obediently, walking in short steady steps, keeping my chin high. I hear my mother's voice in my head, instructing me in etiquette and how to behave properly. I smile and lower my eyes, tucking my chin slightly. _Yes mother, I know._

Jet is standing at the elevator with his team and Silvya. His eyes glide over me and I can tell he's remembering how I look in absolutely nothing, but he likes the kimono. He's dressed formally, and much flashier than I'd seen Silvya ever dress him. He's wearing a shirt not unlike the one he'd worn to dinner on the train. It's pure white and the chest is laced up, but the sleeves are just as loose, and just as lacy at the wrist. Over the shirt is an extraordinarily sleek black vest with silver trim. He wears the same tight pants as I'd seen on Rye, though his boots are much nicer. He has a silver wreath on his head, and shifts it every so often.

He takes my left hand, despite Silvya's protests and words about promises to keep us apart, and kisses my fingers. "You look wonderful, Nara. Almost harmless."

"Silvya did spectacularly, I was almost fooled," I respond, taking my hand back and touching his vest. "Though, no matter how hard you try, dressing up a wolf doesn't make him human. When he opens his mouth and speaks, his sharp teeth give him away."

He bit at me as the elevator opened, grinning.

We're kept apart during the short ride, and we're the first of the tributes to arrive. After a while, more come, and we're greeted with no more than looks. Cherry catches sight of me and her eyes light up, her smile telling me she likes my outfit.

When we're all gathered, they take us outside to sit on the stage that's been set up for us. We sit behind a pair of chairs that are set up for Ceaser Flickerman and the tribute he's interviewing. Girls go first, so I take the first seat with Jet at my side. The City Circle is ablaze with lights and it's bright, but I smile as I gaze about at the flood of people that press close just to watch. Stylists and their teams are in an elevated box, and I wave to Sug as he takes his seat and the Gamemakers enter into the balcony reserved for them.

It isn't long before we're filming and we're joined by our host in his easily recognizable suit. I had to agree with Sid, maroon isn't his color. When I am called, I rise slowly and walk towards him, hiding my excitement.

I take his hand and he shows me off to the crowd. They're pleased with my dress and I bow to them, and again to Flickerman before we take our seats. The interview lasts three minutes, my allotted time, but so much happens it feels a lot longer. The lights are blinding and my cheeks hurts from so much smiling, but I try to play to the crowd.

"Well, Chise Nara..." Ceaser Flickerman says, looking me over. "So much to talk about and not enough time. Of course, you look as beautiful as you did during your parade!"

I laugh. "It's all thanks to my stylist, Sug. He has more talent in his little finger than any stylist I've ever seen." The crowd cheers at that, but I can see the discontent in the stands as the stylists are insulted, but Sug beams at me and nods. "He even let me go barefoot!" I exclaim, lifting the pink silk and showing off my toes, much to the crowd's pleasure.

Flickerman laughs and quickly steers the conversation to the more important topics. "There have been rumors floating around lately, that you're the daughter of Hiroshi Nara, the 19th Hunger Games victor, and Hana Yuki, the 23rd Hunger Games victor?" Flickerman's eyes glittered. It was what he started with, but not what he wanted to talk about. It was something to unnerve me.

I, however, had seen the worst of their deaths and had spent the time since processing it. The mention of them made me proud, every time. They were still remembered, they were still loved, they were still honored. These thoughts make me smile and I nod slightly. "They were my parents, yes. Sadly, they passed on.."

"Oh, that's so awful! On your first Reaping, I heard?" Flickerman continues, sympathetically putting a hand on my arm.

"Don't be sad!" I exclaim, looking worried for the cameras. "They were good people who raised me well! They taught me how to be a proper woman, and told me of the Hunger Games. I forced my parents to tell me stories like a child might ask for a fairytale!"

"You were fascinated with the Hunger Games then, even at a young age?"

I chuckle and look out at the crowd. "Who wouldn't be?" I ask, incredulously. After the laughter died away, I look to Flickerman. "I think it was more of an obsession as a child. I saw my first Hunger Games ten years ago," I reveal, knowing this would interest Jade. "The winner, to date, is still my favorite. I watched religiously, every year, discussing strategy with my father... I overheard him telling my mother once I was 'married to the Games'. He was right, of course, I have been intent on entering for a few years now."

"Is that so?!" Flickerman exclaims, laughing with the Capitol as I sit back and drink it in.

"Very much so. I've dreamed about this my whole life... It's a dream come true. And Ceaser, I do plan on winning this year."

"Oh?" Flickerman asks, looking overly surprised for the cameras. "Well with that 10, it's hard to disagree with you. You had the highest score of all the tributes, did you expect that?"

This I laugh at, holding my torso and gasping as I feel the life squeezed out of me by my corset. "No!" I exclaim when I can breathe again. "I thought the boys would far outscore me, but I guess the Gamemakers liked what I showed them." I shoot a grin at the camera, knowing I couldn't tell them a single detail.

"I have heard from certain people that you're always armed," Flickerman jokes.

"Do they say that?" I ask, looking intrigued and leaning towards him. It's the first time I'm genuinely shocked and interested. "Do you think I'm armed right now?" Quickly I think of what I could have on me, everything is soft, feathery, silk. I could potentially choke someone with my necklace, but I would have to fight to get it off, it was too slow. Think, think, think...

Flickerman is examining me, then looked to the crowd to see what they thought, eyebrow raised.

I looked with him, trying to appear mysterious. I saw a lock of hair out of the corner of my eye that had fallen and fluttered as my head turned. My hair was up, not billowing about my shoulders like it usually was. It was pinned up with the kanzashi Sid had given Reeza. I was always armed. I had my mind, I had my body, and sometimes I had small gifts.

"There's no way you've hidden anything on your person, or under that fluffy skirt of yours, is there?" Flickerman asked, acting nervous.

I laugh and shake my head, quickly brushing aside the idea of revealing the weapon I had found. This was a test, and I had caught on. Graciously, I compliment my fellow tributes. "Every tribute up here has a weapon," I say seriously. "We're all ferocious beasts, except we have intelligent minds. The mind is a weapon that must never dull, lest we fall to savagery."

Flickerman likes this and repeats it. "That is outstanding. Now, at your Reaping, you volunteered for a girl I hear is quite close to you. Care to tell us about her?"

I shrug, as if she's nothing special. "She's my best friend, and I know I said she's no one in District One, but I knew if I had said she was the mayor's daughter, she would have stolen my spotlight..." I pause for everyone to laugh and clap. "Truth is, she's got her eye on Jet, my tribute partner." Of course, there was murmurs of discontent, excitement and interest, which we let roll over the crowd in waves. I press on, unable to let this story slip away. "It seems she was the unlucky one at the Reaping. Her best friend and the boy she loves."

"Did she tell you that when she visited you?"

I frown, leaning forward. "She asked me..." I hesitate, then appear to resolve myself. "She _told_ me to let Jet come back. She made me swear a vow that I wouldn't kill him or forsake our friendship."

There was a soft cry from the crowd. They couldn't believe that someone would betray their friend for a man, but when Jet came forward, they'd understand. Unfortunately, I know I still had a little time. A minute, no more. I timed it softly in my head in counts of ten, keeping track on the fingers of my right hand that were hidden in my sleeves. Three...five...six…

"Really?" Ceaser asked, his eyebrows high and eyes wide. "We were wondering about your ring... it seemed appear at the station."

"She told me to take it, to remind me of my vow," I say, waving my left hand and holding it up for the crowd to see. "I suppose she thinks that the sight of it would still my hand in the heat of battle." More laughs.

"So these rumors surrounding you and Jet... they're pure fiction? We heard you were caught in his bed behind a locked door, naked."

I throw my head back laughing and glance over my shoulder to Jet, who is staring at me with interest. Cairn looks shocked, and her face turns red as she glances up at Jet, her jaw set angrily. I had expected the buzzer to have gone off by now, considering the cheering… "Well, you have to admit, he _is_ good-looking. However, my mother always told me rumors were born on the wings of crows and the lips of snakes. I wouldn't go around trusting them. I will say-" I was about to continue, but the buzzer went off, signaling the end of my time. I had been off by twenty-one seconds. I wink at Ceaser, standing, and say clearly "Well, I guess we'll never know."

I return to my seat, passing Jet on his way to the chair. I brush the hand he reaches out an inch to graze my gown, then I sit, enjoying the rest of the show.

Jet is brilliant, and looks sexy as he sits comfortably in the chair, his charming smile winning him cheers and kisses thrown to him by girls in the crowd. He is quickly directed towards the information that the mayor's daughter of District One had admitted to being in love with him. He's smiling and there's nothing outside of his mouth, his glittering eyes and all those luscious curls.

I'm transfixed as I watch on a screen the events I can only see for the back. I have found a comfortable way to lounge in the chair without the corset squeezing me more than it already was, but still look relaxed.

"Well, it's something to look forward to when I return home," he jokes. "I never would have guessed, they seemed so close."

I growl softly, but don't drop my mild smile.

Jet continues the banter with Flickerman, graciously complimenting the Capitol in both our names, telling them how impressed we have been. He even goes as far as saying we wished we could live here, though it wasn't a bad idea and I nodded enthusiastically for the cameras. I leaned over my armchair and blocked my mouth from the camera and mouthing to Cairn. _Are we in?_ I received a stern look as she rolls her eyes. It's good for the audience, and no one knows what I said, but it shows the tension between us.

When asked about the rumor, Jet grins. "I can see how that could have been mistaken," he says easily. "She _is_ a beauty, but the silly thing is afraid of the dark! Granted, the rooms are quite dark. She just stayed the night, and being the chivalrous man I am, I let her take the bed."

"We were told you were both unclothed when your escort and mentor found you," Flickerman presses.

"I sleep naked, that's no secret!" Jet says firmly, a touch of mischievousness. "My sister found that out when she was ten and my mother told her to get my lazy ass out of bed. What Nara does when she sleeps, I have no clue. I don't peek. As for this rumor... People will say anything to get attention, and personally, I think it's low and shameful."

The way he says it, and looks into the mentors, I actually believe his anger. In that moment, I love him, and the pain tears at me.

His time ends shortly after and Cairn is up. Outshined by us, and a miserable excuse for a dress, she's left with little to talk about, and so focuses on her family. She's proud, of course, and when asked by Flickerman what she plans on doing after she wins the Hunger Games, she looks straight into the camera and announces she plans on becoming a Peacekeeper. The crowd loves it and cheers for her, and she blows them kisses so sweetly. I knew the face behind that mask, she wouldn't live long enough to dream of glory. Not if I had a choice in the matter. And I did.

Brock speaks of his shop back home where he sculpts and carves statues from marble. He works in the quarry, which is where he got his strong body. When Flickerman asks him to flex, he stands, shrugs off the short grey robe and shows off his impressive chest, abs, and arms. Every line of that man's body was visible under his skin tight shorts, and I gasped and looked away, blushing.

Jet laughs and raised his fist from his seat, nudging me. "Way to look like a virgin," he whispers, leaning over and blocking his mouth from the cameras.

He laughs again and pulls away as I shake and bow my head, blocking the sight with my hand. As I stare at my fingers, I notice this is how Jewel had stood in her chariot and quickly drop my hand as Brock tugs on his robe and looks down the line of tributes. I can tell he hadn't wanted to do it, but obliged anyway, and he hopes it will intimidate us. Somehow, I'm not afraid of him anymore.

Cairn caught my eye as Brock took his seat and nodded, which I answered by relaxing in my chair, crossing my legs and staring at the crowd lazily. We were in, and Cairn was plotting to murder us. Too bad I was ten steps ahead of her. Not so much some of the other players it seemed, but Cairn was as dumb as a pile of rocks in a field no one lived in.

Switch was next and she was pretty, but not stunning. However, she had a certain intelligence to her and spoke well. Tessla was entertaining with his innocence, but shy and hides behind his long hair. He's asked about his stay in the Capitol and he just opens up, talking about how much food he was able to eat, how much he had learned since coming here and saying all the tributes were really nice.

I raise my eyebrow at that and chuckle. I felt like a queen on her throne, the crowd my subjects, and the tribute in the chair, my fool. This one was cute, but I knew if he did live past the first day, he was going to be extremely useless. I hoped, for his sake, his death was clean.

Amia was a wonder in her stunning blue dress, and she appears to be what I imagine the sea to look like. She chats animatedly with Flickerman about what she misses about home. She agrees that this year's Hunger Games are going to be interesting and says she's impressed so many tributes have talent.

Ray talks about fishing, and interesting things he had found. He claims the most valuable thing he ever found was a tiny clam he brought home one day to give his mother, and when she opened it up that night, there was a large black pearl staring up at her.

I knew pearls were found in oysters; before the Fallout my family had fished the seas, or so my father told me many times. I had no idea that clams could make pearls as well, but somehow it makes sense, as the two are similar. I could see Ray sitting on a beach somewhere, peaceful and fixing his net maybe. It was unfortunate he was here... If I was to go home, he'd never see that beach again. I wondered, as he returned to his seat, eyes downcast, if he was thinking that very thing.

Jewel is dressed simply in a short electric-blue dress with a white sash, and with her make-up done, she's quite pretty. She answers her questions tersely, sticks to the point and refuses to answer questions she doesn't feel are relevant. When asked about her unusually high score, she smiles and the plain face on the screen shifts to cute for just a moment. "I've been underestimated my whole life," she says with a hint of resentment. "I used to think no one saw any potential in me, but yesterday I got the confirmation I needed. I poured my heart and soul into my presentation, and the Gamemakers recognized my skill. I want to say 'thank you' for that."

I smile, but hide it behind my fingers as I rest my chin on my hand as I lounge and watch the Gamekeepers nodding and smiling, waving to her and the cameras. I feel a small extra pound in my chest as I get her meaning. I am glad she had done well, as I knew she would. She was focused, quiet, determined... that alone mixed with her various talents and intelligence made her quite a deadly weapon. One of the best caliber, and I am relieved she'd be helping instead of fighting me.

Daniel, however, is likable and they chat casually about his training, telling a longish story about a wrestling match he almost won, which takes up most of his time. Before his time is up, he expressed his thanks to "the one true god" and said he prays for a time for peace. I find this statement curious.

Charon is next, and I expect her to stay silent, as I had never heard her speak. Thinking on that, I realize I have never even seen her speaking to anyone. Her voice is low and hesitating, but she sits up tall in her little black dress and answers Flickerman's questions straightforwardly. He asks her what makes her think she's a good contender and for the first time she looks confident. "I'm good at hiding and I'm fast. I'm pretty sure I could hide from this lot the entire game!"

I can hear the murmurs throughout the line. The boys seem to be more angry than the girls, but a few of us watched her walk back to her seat, seething. I sat up in my seat to get a better look as she sat in her chair, staring at the floor silently. She didn't say much, but when she did, she had a way of making people hate her. My fists are clenched on the armchair, not even hiding the obvious anger I feel.

Aken is talking, but I can't concentrate as I slowly sit back and lounge again. I know Charon is a danger then. Anyone who can hide is a danger. If she was as patient as she appeared, she could wait the entire game and stab the would-be victor in the back. That wasn't a good end, it wasn't a battle to be remembered; it wasn't even an honorable finale! It was cowardice masked by cunning. Sure, Charon might kill a few people throughout the games, but they would be weak, craven deaths.

Jet looks over and sees me seething, lips puckered as I chew on my cheek, finger tapping on the arm absently, but in a rhythm. Tap-tap tap-tap, tap-tap tap-tap, tap-tap tap-tap, tap-tap tap-tap... He reaches over and taps my wrist in the same pattern, drawing my attention to the strange action and I look at him. "Cheer up!" he says, then smiles at me.

I shake my head, but can't help but smile back and look to the screens where Flickerman is greeting Yew, who wears a dress that makes her resemble a birch tree. She distracts Flickerman with her descriptions of the forest she lives in, the trees she helps chop down. She tells him she doesn't sleep much because of her work, and it's obvious she has an advantage over many of us. Many, but not all I see, and certainly not me.

Cypress is clothed in brown and is unimpressive as he sits in the chair and draws up one leg to hold. He answers the questions dully, often mumbling and pushing up his specs. I wonder if Yew had told him not to speak to anyone, or if he really didn't know what to say. When his time is up, he shuffles back to his seat and looks at Yew who gives him a disgruntled look, but nods.

I shake my head and watch Florence stand from her seat. I would never figure out the two from District Seven, and I accepted it. I marked them as targets, as I had done with some others, and tried to listen to Florence talk about her mother's dress shop. She's not very threatening, and she's small; I can't imagine how a girl who had only received a three could still be so calm. Maybe she hadn't accepted her fate yet... or, more probable, she had.

Hodden speaks with a slight accent and takes Flickerman's jibes about his parade costume, what he called a 'kilt', in stride, saying he had been very cold, but otherwise it wasn't so bad. They trade jokes and stories about clothes in the Capitol and put the crowd in a light mood.

Poppy looks stunning in her purple dress that falls to her knees, showing off toned legs and cute strappy sandals. She's friendly and talks about the various weapons she had trained with, the ones she liked, a few she wished she had trained with more. She was going for dangerous, or maybe well-prepared. She's very likeable, which makes that strange because likable and dangerous was a weapon of its own. Kind of like the friend who would give you a high five after your first kill, then stab you in the belly, asking if you're okay as you bleed out. It made me shudder.

Rye is just as cheery and talks about the grain fields. He makes them sound peaceful and ideal, but I know it's a lie. I know what it takes to farm fields, and it was back-breaking work. I wouldn't be surprised if he got that body plowing fields, reaping, and various other tasks, but he doesn't talk about what he does. I know he's nimble and light-fingered, and untrustworthy. That's all I need to know.

Sierra hasn't improved much, and her sullen and brusque answers frustrate Flickerman as he tries to get her to show an emotion besides annoyance. I find amusement in him trying to find things she's willing to talk about. She is almost silent on her family, her work, her district, she refused to talk about the Capitol. She didn't seem to want to talk about anything.

Bos is just as intimidating to everyone else as I find him. He's built like Brock, and a few inches taller, but there's no kindness to him. He's made for killing. Coincidentally, I had been right about his job. He worked in the slaughterhouses and killed the bigger animals with a large hammer, or slitting throats. He was desensitized to the crunch of bone, the splatter of blood, and the howls and screams of the dying.

Cherry waits until Bos is sitting to spring from her chair and dash to the front of the stage. She looks beautiful in her sleeveless red dress that almost covers the black shorts she wore underneath, her long mane of straightened black hair tied back with a red ribbon. She navigated in her tiny heels like she could trek through the woods in them, and I'm impressed by her grace. They talk about the orchards I had been told about, and Cherry admits that even though she's good at climbing the trees, she doesn't like it very much and would rather stay on the ground. She also thinks she'll be able to find food as she admits to have eaten a great many bugs.

Berry seems reluctant to talk, but when pressured he gives in. He tells them he's only known work his whole life, and this is a nice break. He has four older siblings, which means he eats very little. I can only imagine how his stomach was handling the rich Capitol food.

I lose interest in the tributes from Twelve, having had sat in my uncomfortable dress for far too long. Luckily, the light breeze was giving me enough air to breathe and keeping my hot skin cool. I force myself to pay attention for the last few minutes, and am rewarded with interesting information.

The girl sold flowers in her father's shop, or so Flickerman said. The fact she was born deaf and mute and hid behind her blonde hair a lot was entertaining to watch. It gives her a cute and shy look, but I know it won't get her sponsors. Sponsors don't care if you're cute, only if you'll survive. She won't.

The boy missed his family and promises to fight hard to see them again. His dark hair and olive complexion made him appear older than he was, or maybe it was his dark eyes that held many secrets. He might get sponsors, and he might live past the first day; but he'd lose all the same.

And then we're done, and I'm drowsy and irritable, but I stand for the anthem and look to the sky. Jet walks back to the elevators with me, and steadies me when I grow dizzy. I try and say I'm alright, but before I can protest, he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me in to the Training Center. I hold him as he picks an elevator with Rye, Poppy, and Cherry, setting me down to hit our button.

"Are you alright?" Cherry asks, looking at me with concern and touching my arm. Her hand looked like only days ago it had been a skeleton.

I nod and put a hand to my stomach. "The dress is too tight," I admit. "Sug insists on squeezing the breath from me."

"It's gorgeous though," Cherry breathes. "You look perfect in it Chise, it really suits you."

Our floor is first and I thank her quickly as I follow Jet from the elevator, waving as the doors close. Rye is watching us carefully, but Poppy appears to be bored and is looking at her gold nails.

It isn't long before Sug and Silvya and our prep teams are in the sitting room with us. I take the Zas to my room to change out of the dress. As much as I want to continue wearing it, I want to breathe more. I return all the jewels to them, along with Sid's kanzashi. After my shower and braiding my wet hair loosely, I find a pair of black pajamas like the ones Jet had worn and pull them on before rejoining the crowd in the eating area.

I load up my plate with strange foods and pick at them, uninterested. I don't enter into the conversation and when asked a question, I look up, then return to my thoughts without a word.

Tonight is my last night of peace. Tomorrow we'd fight, and some would die. Not me. I wouldn't let that happen. I sit through the broadcast of the interviews, but I hardly pay attention. I do notice myself on the screen, perched haughtily on my chair like it was a throne, and I think I look grand. I hope the lack of fear scared some of the weaker tributes. Little do they know the fear is setting in now.

It's when Sid asks me for my ring that I really pay attention. "Excuse me?" I ask.

"It needs to be cleared by the review board," he explains. "I'll take care of it and have Sug return it to you before you go into the arena."

I consent, but I make my displeasure obvious as I pull it from my finger.

Bed comes early and I leave the room without a word. I know that early in the morning, they will come to take me away to the horror that awaited all of us. I wanted the time I had to myself to be special. Under the blankets, I say our names slowly, eyes tightly shut, until sleep envelops me.


End file.
